


Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: New Republic Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: A very young and inexperiened author at work, Abandoned Story, Before I decided it finally needed a re-write (which still has not happened), But I totally cut my teeth on this story, F/M, Gen, In dire need of a re-write, Worked on this story for seven years before finally giving up, very old story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-22
Updated: 2008-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 52,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tycho Celchu is sent out to infiltrate Courscant and the odds of not coming back alive are high. This is the recount of his capture aboard Lusankya and his escape back to the Rebel Alliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first written after being heavily inspired by Stackpole's X-Wing series, especially by the character of Tycho Celchu and all of the crap and wringer he went through in the four books. I discovered the comic series prequel to the first four X-Wing novels, but sadly it ended with "Mandatory Retirement" and did not depict Tycho's stay at Lusankya. So I decided it needed to be rectified and written. This story was my first attempt to write in a more...mature fashion (as in both upping it past the PG-13/T rating and trying to write torture).

Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Star Wars characters except those of Akiba Muune, Lieutenant Dysune Tayib, and Captain Falco Avin. All other characters belong to Lucasfilm and their respective authors. I am not making a profit out of this story, it is only written for fans to enjoy.

 

**Summary:** Tycho Celchu, son of Alderaan, is sent out to infiltrate Courscant with the highest rating of not coming back alive. This is the recount of his capture aboard Lusankya and his subsequent return to the New Republic under the heavy eye of being a possible spy.

 

**Author’s Warning:** This fic is rated R for heavy graphic violence, torture, and imprisonment.

 

**Characters:**

Commander Wedge Antilles – human male from Corellia

Captain Tycho Celchu – human male from Alderaan

Winter – human female from Alderaan

Admiral Ackbar – Mon Calamari male from Mon Calamari

General Horton Salm – human male from ?

General Airen Cracken – human male from Contruum

Ella Westerly – human female from Corellia

Grania – human female from Courscant

Akiba Muune – Mon Calamari female from Mon Calamari

Lieutenant Dysune Tayib – human male from Agamar

Director Ysanne Isard – human female from Courscant

Captain Falco Avin – human male from Bakura

( _character list subject to change_ )

 

**Story:**

 

# Chapter 1

 

“I would like to make a toast,” the recently promoted Commander Wedge Antilles suddenly spoke up from his end of a long table, which sat his squadron and a few others who had been invited to the party held in their honor of those who had fallen on the eve of the Battle of Yavin almost five years ago. “I wish to toast those who have long been gone from us. And those who have recently died while fighting bravely,” he paused for a second, watching his squadron, now only with eleven pilots himself included, “we honor them tonight.”

There was a chorus of agreements and then a brief silence followed. Wedge broke the silence by clearing his throat a bit loudly, making everyone at the table focus on him. “In light of things, there is another reason I gathered all of you here,” he knelt down and picked up a thin long case and opened it up, showing everyone what was inside. “Three people have been a valuable asset to this squadron since our recent battles.” He picked up one of the three promotion ranks in the case…

“Flight Officer Nrin Vakil, please step forward,” Wedge ordered then watched as the Quarren, who was recently devastated with the death of his very close friend and wingmate Ibtisam, stand up uneasily. “Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant Vakil,” he continued then placed the new bar over the old one and shook Nrin’s hand.

“Ibtisam would be proud, Nrin,” he whispered before releasing the Quarren’s hand.

“I know Commander, I know,” Vakil replied then saluted curtly and returned to his seat.

“Flight Officer Derek Klivan,” Wedge watched as Hobbie stood up and received some backslaps and some laughing. “Congratulations on your promotion Lieutenant Klivan,” he let a grin blossom on his face as Hobbie, who was known to have spent more time in bacta than anyone else in the New Republic Starfighter Command, stood in front of him. Hobbie’s normally mournful face was all cheer as he saluted and shook Wedge’s hand then sat back down.

“And last of the promotions, Lieutenant Tycho Celchu,” Wedge called out and watched as his second-in-command stood up, a grin on his handsome poster-boy face. Only a few months ago, he was injured in an attempt by Leonia Tavira to get information out of him when he and Winter, who was in the guise of Princess Leia, were kidnapped. Now, he was back in action and all ready to be the deadly fighter pilot he was. “You’re promoted to the rank of Captain, Tycho,” Wedge pinned the rank on his dress uniform and shook his hand.

“Thank you sir,” Tycho replied formally then saluted and walked back to his seat.

“Hey, does this mean he’s commanding his own squadron?” Feylis Ardele suddenly spoke up, as the table burst out into laughter.

“No…Rogue Squadron still has its same old pilots,” Lieutenant Wes Janson replied, “we’re the same old people in the same old squadron that kicked the Empire’s butt!”

Wedge grinned also, but it faltered as he heard the distinct beep of someone calling his comlink. He hated it when anyone bothered him…and it was probably one of the Generals or Admirals calling him back to duty. He left his seat quietly and stepped into a comlink booth that was soundproof. Taking out his comlink from the inside of his dress uniform’s jacket, he thumbed it on and a small frown appeared on his face as he saw that it was Admiral Ackbar calling him.

“Admiral,” he greeted.

“Commander Antilles, I need to talk with you about an assignment for Rogue Squadron right now. Bring Captain Celchu with you,” Ackbar’s bulbous eyes blinked once.

“As ordered,” Wedge replied then shut off the link and walked back to the rest of his squadmates. He hated to ruin their party, but he knew that Ackbar would not call him if there were something not important.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” Wes spoke up; his baby-like face a mask of concern.

“Ackbar just called, so I’ll have to leave. Sorry for running out like this,” he replied then glanced at Tycho who had been talking to Winter, “Tycho, Ackbar wants to see you too.”

“Enjoy the rest of the meal,” Wedge saluted briefly then left them, Tycho on his heels.

* * *

Tycho Celchu adjusted the rank bar on his dress uniform before running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He was surprised that Admiral Ackbar had requested for him to come along, after all Rogue Squadron was due for a reprieve for their recent battles near the Tion Cluster and he had wanted to spend that time with Winter who was going to be off of _Home One_ for an undercover mission in a few days.

“Any idea what the Admiral called us for?” he asked Wedge as both of them made their way towards where the Mon Calamari’s office was aboard his flagship.

“Not really,” Wedge replied and he frowned a bit as they stopped in front of Ackbar’s office and Wedge knocked. The door slid open and Tycho followed Wedge in.

An air of oppressive humidity greeted him, making the air seem heavier than it was. Admiral Ackbar was a Mon Calamari, and found the rest of the ship’s air too thin and stale for his aquatic-like lungs. A good-sized fish-sphere was on Tycho’s left and he took a look at it. There were small little fishes swimming within and he reached out to touch it-

“I wouldn’t if I were you Captain Celchu,” Ackbar’s ruddery voice greeted them and he took back his hand just as one of the fishes jumped out of the sphere, its mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth.

Tycho blinked a bit in surprise then remembered who was in the room and quickly stood at attention, holding a salute to his head. “Sir.”

“At ease gentlemen,” Ackbar waved the salute away then motioned to them to follow him and Tycho fell in step behind Wedge.

Ackbar lead them to a holographic table and motioned for them to sit down. He dimmed the lights and turned on the holo-projector, which sprang to life an image of what looked like Courscant.

“I asked you two to be here because this mission which I am going to be assigning is highly dangerous and heavily classified. We need a volunteer who can masquerade as an Imperial officer and head to Courscant in the TIE fighter we’ve impounded on Bakura. Once near Courscant, the person will be gathering various data on the Golan Space Defense system, the mirrors and anything of importance. Then he or she will land on Courscant and send the information out on various routes and then we will contact him or her and they will fly out and meet up with an Alliance freighter and return back here,” Ackbar’s barells twitched then he drew in a watery breath, “and I need both your opinions on who is the best candidate within your squadron to head out on this kind of mission.”

“Wait, you want Rogue Squadron to do this mission?” Wedge started and Tycho instantly knew the real reason why Ackbar called on him and Wedge to come here.

“I’ll go,” he said, not looking at Wedge’s surprised face. It was one of the rare moments that he had surprised his commander, and he knew that Wedge wasn’t the one that was easily surprised. “I’m the one with the most experience into Imperial territory since I graduated from the Academy and back on Clipar, you knew that I infiltrated the Imperial base there…”

“But…” Wedge started to protest and Tycho shook his head slightly.

“Don’t worry about me. I can conform easily in and out,” he replied then glanced at the Admiral as he cleared his throat.

“There is also another assignment Commander Antilles,” Ackbar spoke up, “while Captain Celchu is on his mission…you will take Rogue Squadron to meet with the Dreadnaught _New Hope_ who is located in the Milagro System. Commander Skywalker will be there, and you are just there for air support. I know your leaves are coming up, so you will leave as soon as they are over.”

“Yes sir,” was Wedge’s monotonic reply and Tycho could feel some undercurrent of resentment coming out of his commander. He also took the hint that their briefing was over and started to salute when Ackbar interrupted them.

“You are dismissed Commander, but I need Captain Celchu to remain to talk with him about his mission…Also Commander, none of this is to leave the room,” Ackbar spoke gravely.

“Understood sir,” Wedge replied then saluted and left.

Tycho watched his long time friend walk out, some hint of coolness within his pace and he could tell that he was not happy with the current situation.

“Now then…General Cracken, can you come here,” Admiral Ackbar suddenly called out and Tycho blinked his eyes in surprise as the slightly graying redheaded general stepped out from the shadows of the Admiral’s room.

“Sir,” he saluted the general then glanced at Ackbar. What was going on with the two of them that made him feel uncomfortable. _Ease up on it Celchu…you volunteered for this mission_ , a mental voice chastised him.

Cracken reached over and turned back on the holo-projector and tapped a few buttons, “The TIE fighter you’ll be piloting is equipped with sensor packages and stuffed with everything we can fit onto it so you can record the maximum amount of data into the fighter’s memory banks. You will then land on Courscant in your guise of a TIE pilot that has been separated from his convoy. When you land you will be escorted by one of my men to your temporary quarters. Within the next few days you are on Courscant, my men will be going through your TIE fighter and sending out the information at various paces and places. It is then that we will contact you again with your exit cover and you will rendezvous with the freighter _Ion Scurrier_ and make your way back to Home One.”

He handed Tycho a package that was vacuumed sealed. “This is your cover for getting in. The clothing was taken in and scanned for anything that might reveal you are a Alliance pilot,” Cracken handed him a small satchel, “this is for your stay on Courscant. It contains your cover ID, a couple of civilian clothing, comlinks, credit chits, and a blaster.”

Tycho took the satchel and placed it on top of the vacuumed package. He knew that the mission was dangerous and could mean his life if he was caught by the Imps, but he knew that this was vital to the Alliance’s assault on the capital of the Empire. He didn’t know what would happen on Courscant, but he did know that this was important.

“Who are my contacts?” he asked, looking at both Ackbar and Cracken.

“We can’t tell you that, but you’ll be meeting them with these phrase words,” Cracken handed him a datacard, “due to the level of danger in this mission, you would only get the chance to identify them by their code names. The name you’ll be using is Farell Tynnia, a pilot from Alderaan who had joined the Empire after the destruction of his home planet. He seemed to have bore no love for the rebel forces that were massing on Alderaan and preferred to fight for the Empire. Farell is like the black sheep among his people and you’ll be playing his role.”

“We know that this role is hard on you, but-“

“I’ll execute it to the best of my abilities,” Tycho interrupted Admiral Ackbar then shut up as he realized that he had just cut off a superior officer.

“Very well then,” Ackbar replied, giving no hint to him as if he had heard his interruption or not. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow at eleven-hundred.” He handed him another datacard that contained his mission orders.

“All of this information does not go out of this room, is that clear Captain Celchu,” Cracken spoke up, his voice gruff.

“As ordered,” Tycho gathered his things in one hand while in the other gave his commanding officers a crisp salute. He then turned around and left them.

“You think this will work?” Ackbar turned to Cracken.

“It better…or else we won’t be able to get Courscant and bring the Empire down,” Cracken replied gravely.

* * *

Tycho walked away from Ackbar’s office and took a lift down towards his single occupancy quarters aboard _Home One_. He was lucky to have his own quarters, since he was second in command of Rogue Squadron. Keying open his door he stepped in and flicked on the lights as the door hissed closed and locked automatically.

He placed the things in his arms down on a desk in which he had been working on, filing various reports, and turned and looked around his room. The walls were sparse with pictures, only two of them hanging on them. One was of the Wuitho Trifalls, the other a picture of the beautiful city of Aldera, his hometown. He glanced at his desk and tears pricked in his eyes at the holo-image of his parents, sister, and his fiancée. They had all died on his birthday…the day that the Death Star blew Alderaan up. _And now I’m portraying someone with the exact opposite heart…what a hypocrite_ , he thought to himself as he swiped at the tears then took the satchel he had on his desk and opened it.

It was what Cracken had told him. Everything he needed for his stay on Courscant. He was about to reach in and take the blaster out when there was a knock on his door.

“Who is it?” Tycho asked as he closed the satchel and tried to find a place in his room where he could hide everything.

“Its Winter, flyboy,” Winter’s teasing voice filtered through and Tycho silently swore. _Sithspawn…I can’t let her see this_ , he thought as he opened the door to his small closet and tossed the things in.

“Hold on a minute,” he called to her then reached into the closet and tried to straighten everything out. He didn’t want any of the things that Cracken had given to him to be messed up with his own belongings. After straightening out the things, he closed the door and looked himself over. He was still dressed in his dress uniform, but that was okay.

Tycho unlocked the door and it slid open, revealing Winter still in her evening gown that she wore to the small dinner party Wedge had called for earlier. “Hi, anything wrong?”

“Looks like you’re still dressed up,” Winter commented, letting her cool gaze run over him.

Tycho suppressed a blush that was threatening to erupt around his face, “If you give me a minute I can get changed or something…”

“Its okay. I saw you walking towards your quarters before and you looked a bit worried, so I came to check on you. You want to take a walk?” Winter offered and Tycho blinked in surprise.

“You’re asking me? I thought I was the one that always asked you, Winter…the cold, ice water veined agent who can shoot through anything,” Tycho smiled slightly as Winter frowned. “But sure…I guess I would.”

He offered her his arm and the two of them left his quarters. Tycho took a quick glance back at the closet before the door closed and he felt as if he was blackmailing himself. _I volunteered…I have to get through this_ , he reminded himself as the two of them headed towards the starlight balcony, one of the most romantic places aboard the vessel.

* * *

“This place will be a major contrast to Courscant when we achieve it,” Winter commented softly beside him as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Tycho nodded slightly, as he kept one arm around her, his gaze lost among the stars. He felt Winter shift a bit in his arms and he glanced down at her brilliant white hair, which was cropped stylishly short. She seemed contented tonight and he knew that he didn’t exactly share her sentiments. Suddenly she looked up and Tycho found himself gazing into her cool green eyes.

“Tycho, what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet all this time since you came back from your meeting with Admiral Ackbar,” she asked, her white brows furrowing in concentration.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second then gave her a smile, “Its okay…its just that I’ve been tired recently. I mean with all the fighting going on, and Rogue Squadron’s recent battles at the edges of the Tion Cluster…” he trailed off as Winter’s mouth found his and he relented to her kiss.

Tycho felt his hands brushing her face and pulling her closer to him as the kiss lasted longer and longer…until he broke away from her, his breath coming in a bit ragged. He shook his head slightly and looked down at her, to see a smile forming on her lips. “What…was that for?” He asked, almost breathlessly.

“To stop your worries and to shut you up for now,” Winter replied in her own sarcastic manner. She softened her words with another gentle kiss to his lips then settled down against his shoulder once more.

“Oh…um…okay,” Tycho replied, feeling a small blush erupt on his face. He was about to say more when a comlink bleeped and he saw Winter’s face turn from happiness to a neutral expression, but there were hints of frustration in her eyes.

“Winter here,” she thumbed on her own comlink from a concealed pocket in her evening gown.

“Sorry boss for interrupting you…but we’ve just got something you might want to see,” Kapp Dendo’s voice filtered through and he saw her face turn from neutral into serious.

“Roger that, Kapp. I’m on my way,” she replied then shut off the link and started to move away.

He grabbed her hand and looked deep into her eyes and face, “Be careful on your mission.”

“I will Captain Celchu…don’t worry,” Winter replied then gave him a smile before leaving, the shimmers on her gown trailing her wake.

Tycho watched her leave then turned his gaze back to the stars that were winking with their own light outside of Home One. The planet in which the fleet was orbiting around occasionally came into view every few minutes or so. _Tomorrow, Rogue Squadron gets their leave, while mine is cancelled…I know why they specifically chose me…they want to know where my allegiances stand. No one in high command trusts me fully, except for Wedge_ , he thought to himself as he glanced down at his Captain bar rank. It was all a joke…if he came back from the mission alive, then they would be able to trust him fully…but if something happened to him, then there was nothing to worry about. _The guys in High Command would probably say ‘Oh he was a good pilot. Another one who had died serving the Alliance.’_ He thought bitterly and one of his hands curled into a fist.

“Who am I kidding…sithspawn, I don’t need to be like this before a mission,” Tycho chastened himself softly then got up, stretching his sore leg muscles from sitting down too long. He took one more look at the winking stars and then left the starlight room, headed back to his quarters.

_Whatever those guys at High Command say about my record, its nothing when I come back with the information vital to capturing Courscant since Princess Leia’s trade agreement with Sate Pestage ended in disaster_ , he thought grimly as he entered his room and locked the door behind him.

Tomorrow, he would become Farell Tynnia. Tycho Celchu, the son of Alderaan would stay in the shadows as a new Alderaanian emerged.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Well, this is the beginning of Tycho’s trip into the depths of the Maw. I hoped you enjoy this first chapter and look for more in the coming months. I will be starting school very soon, so these may come in slow, but I will try to write them with the best of my abilities. C-ya next chapter!

 

# Chapter 2

 

Beep…beep…beep…be-

A hand suddenly slammed down on the alarm chrono and Tycho opened his eyes, still a bit blurry from sleep and glanced at it. _Only five in the morning…why did I set it then_ , he thought sleepily as he turned away from the chrono and pulled his covers back over him. He suddenly sat up as he realized what was today. _Sithspawn! I’m late! I have to report to the hanger bay in half an hour!_

He quickly got out of his bunk and ran to the small refresher station in his room, grabbing the satchel that held some clothes he would wear under the TIE pilot uniform and the vacuum-sealed package with the uniform inside of it.

He came out of the ‘fresher a few minutes later, the flightsuit pulled all the way up to his waist, the top half hanging limply behind him. He grabbed the satchel and two datacards and left his bunkroom. It was fairly quiet in the wee hours of the ship, the night crew getting ready to hit their own sacks while the day crew was just getting ready to start another day. As he walked towards the hanger bay he noticed that a few people were giving him odd looks, some full of distaste, while others gave some hint that they knew that he was going undercover. He tucked the helmet of his flightsuit underneath his arm and adjusted the satchel on his left shoulder.

When he arrived at the rear hanger bay of _Home One_ he noticed tech crews milling around the Advanced TIE Fighter they had captured at Bakura. He made a beeline towards the TIE fighter and climbed halfway up into the sphere-shaped cockpit. He looked around and saw that indeed, every single kind of equipment was jammed into the fighter, leaving him only a little enough room to sit and maneuver a bit. There was just one small space under his seat to fit the satchel he had received and he stuffed it under.

“Captain Celchu!” one of the tech officers called out and Tycho turned to see the head of the tech crew, a middle aged man by the name of Senitin waving him over and he climbed down the ladders that were hooked on the lip of the eyeball’s cockpit.

“Captain,” Senitin greeted then handed him a clipboard with some statistics and paper on it, “this is what we have loaded into your TIE. General Cracken wants you to record as many data as you can about everything orbiting the planet and anything else you can get that might be a danger to the Alliance when they come and take Courscant.”

“As ordered,” Tycho replied then took a quick glance at the advanced eyeball. Someone at Starfighter Command had taken to naming the various TIE designs by silly names, and the “eyeball”, for the TIE fighter had stuck. He didn’t mind the name and it was a bit easier to identify them during combat. “The hyperdrive in the eyeball is ready, right?”

“Yes sir,” Senitin replied then took back the clipboard and touched the rim of his tech cap. “Good luck sir, and May the Force be with you.”

Tycho nodded then climbed up into the cockpit of the fighter. He sat down then slipped on the rest of his flightsuit, zippering it up so that it would be airtight. He felt a bit naked with out the life support system attached to his flightsuit like a normal flightsuit would be, but the TIE fighter had its own internal life support system installed. He closed the hatch to his cockpit and placed the black helmet on, the leather of his gloves squeaking a bit against his helmet.

“Control this is Defender One, do you copy?” Tycho spoke into the headset that was in his helmet.

His comm system crackled to life, “Defender One, Control here. Your exit vector is bearing one-one-two-six. Be sure to make three hyperspace jumps before approaching Courscant.”

“Copy that Control, Defender One out,” he replied then started up the engine to the eyeball, a semi-familiar whine filling the cockpit. He eased up on the throttle and glided out of the hanger bay.

“Good luck Defender One. May the Force be with you,” the person monitoring at Control spoke gravely and Tycho nodded.

He then turned and tapped a few coordinates on his nav-computer. Coordinates set…engaging light-drive, he thought to himself as he gunned the sublight engines then pressed a button on his advanced eyeball. The stars around him became white lines as he shot into hyperspace.

* * *

Tycho keyed in the last of the coordinates that was to take him to the citywide planet of Courscant. The hub of the galaxy…the seat in which both the Old Republic and Empire sat. The center of commerce and diplomacy…well not exactly diplomacy, he thought wryly as he settled into the slightly uncomfortable seat of the eyeball. The last leg of his trip was to take a few hours so he had time for a short nap. He tapped a few keys on the nav-computer to tell him when it was about ten minutes before reversion into real-space.

Taking off his helmet and settling back, he stared at the white lines of hyperspace. His thoughts wandered…

“ _Hey Celchu!” one of the pilots in his squadron called out and Tycho glanced up, just in time to receive a package square in his face._

“ _Ow…Reniston, stop that. You could have given me a bruise the size of one of Hoth’s moons,” Tycho mock glared at the pilot before looking down at the package. It was from his family and he smiled inwardly. He had talked to them a few days ago on his birthday and his father had hinted at something to be sent to him. Before Tycho could guess what it was, his image melted away into static and he thought that it was just some minor glitch within his father’s network._

“ _Whatcha got there, Celchu?” another of the pilots in his squadron called out and he held the package up._

“ _Something from my parents on Alderaan,” he replied then creased his brows as he noticed that a few of the pilots who were sitting in the locker room with him had saddened looks on his face. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”_

“ _Um…Tycho…” the pilot that had just spoken to him started softly and Tycho knew that something was wrong…very wrong, “we didn’t know how to break the news to you…it was announced when you were in the simulators.”_

“ _What news? What?”_

“ _Tycho…Alderaan was destroyed a few days ago because of the rebel forces that had taken the planet hostage. Everyone on that planet was killed. Grand Moff Tarkin had no choice…he pleaded with the rebels to stop using the planet as a hostage…”_

_His friend’s words became deaf in his ears as a great void filled up inside of him…a hollow void… He just kept staring at the package that was only given to him a few minutes ago, the address coming from his home in Aldera City…_

Tycho snapped wide-awake and shook his head to clear away the dream he was having. He shivered a bit and rubbed his eyes. What happened? He hadn’t dreamed a so vivid dream in a long time and it scared him a bit. He had remembered that afterwards, he opened the package and saw that it was a crystal shard that his fiancée Nyiestra had brought when she went on a trip to Crevasse City…and it was engraved with both their names on it for their future wedding plans.

Suddenly a beeping alerted him that he was ten minutes from reversion point and he straightened his flightsuit before putting the TIE pilot helmet over his head. He washed away the thoughts of the dream…he didn’t like to dwell on the past.

Tycho watched as the numbers slipped down to the point of revision. Was the dream supposed to mean something? Was it part of the Force that had led him to dream something like this…he frowned slightly as he thought of the possibilities. He would have to talk to Luke about what had happened when he returned from the mission, but last he heard was that Luke was commanding something within the Milagro System, where Wedge and the others would be joining them after their weeklong reprieve.

He shook his head and his hand hovered over the hyperspace switch. _Three…two…one…now_ , he thought to himself as he pulled back on the lever and the lines of stars became little dots.

He sucked in a quick breath of amazement. The Courscant System, even out in the edges of it, was still buzzing with traffic. He quickly glanced down and keyed in a few other coordinates into his nav computer and then turned to his right to switch on the first of the data recording devices, taking care that he encrypted everything into a quadruple level of different security systems and passwords.

Sitting back, he scanned the data coming in and raised an eyebrow. _If the New Republic were to take over this area…we would have to send in a team of elite commandos first. This place is packed with fighters and imps like a pack of rabid rancors_ , Tycho suppressed the urge to whistle at the massive amount of defenses and data that was pouring in.

After a few more minutes of data pouring in he stopped the flow and pulled the lever and skipped a few seconds into hyperspace before returning to normal space. Now Courscant was a hulking mass of a citywide planet, sparkling like a jewel in space. Surrounding the glittering planet was massive black-shadowed masses…the Golan Space Defenses.

Imperial Star Destroyers surrounded the Golan Space Defenses, and squadrons of TIE fighters patrolled the area, their twin ion engines screaming in the vacuum of space. He throttled his sublight engines and approached one of the Golan Stations, slowly as to look like he was coming from a near by out-system Star Destroyer. Turning on only a few of the recording devices, he made sure that most of them was low powered so that no one would be able to detect any of the devices over his the electrical field that his ion engine gave out. But this made the data harder to receive and he knew that he would have to wash the recorded things later before he sent it out on the various channels the New Republic would connect to.

Suddenly his comm system crackled to life and a gruff but bored nasal voice spoke from it, “This is Golan Defense Station…identify yourself.”

Tycho breathed out a quick breath then steeled himself to remain calm. It wasn’t hard. He knew that most imperials were bored out of their minds and it was easy for him to fit the guise of an Imperial officer coming for shore leave, “This is Captain Farell Tynnia. Pilot TC-1198 of Imperial Star Destroyer _Aegis_. I’m going on shore leave from our recent raid in the Milagro System. Damn…you should see those Rebels fight. Either they’re sithspawn psychos or just rabid. But their women prisoners…they’re like finding coursca jem.” He winced slightly at the last remark, but he had to interest the imp officer who was controlling the comm system.

“Really?!” the officer replied with a bit more enthusiasm.

“Yeah…but I’m hoping to find me some more women down here in the real coursca jem planet,” Tycho felt a bad aftertaste in his mouth as he spit those words out. _Winter’s gonna kill me if she finds out what I’ve said…_ he thought silently. But it was what the description of Farell Tynnia Ackbar and Cracken had given him. Tynnia was Alderaanian born and sometimes thoughtful and quiet, yet he had a streak of running with women all the time.

It was something Tycho had never done and he didn’t really know how to improvise…

“Well, some women you have to watch out for, but the exotics, damn they are real suave,” the officer replied and Tycho winced some more. He felt like he had to dunk himself in a vat of Corellian whiskey or lomin ale just to get his head clear of this sort of nonsense. “But anyhow…you’re clear to come in Captain Tynnia. Good hunting on your reprieve,” the officer said then clicked off and Tycho did the same.

He released a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in and punched the sublight engines to take him down to the citywide planet. Following an approach vector that the comm officer had given him while they were chatting, he landed in a bay where there were other Imperial fighters. A few pilots were either preparing to take off or they were just landing like he was.

He settled his advanced eyeball down onto one of the pads gently and shut off all control systems. After unbuckling his crash webbing, Tycho turned slightly and grabbed all the data cards that had been inserted within the various recording systems the Alliance had given him. He took each data card and punched in a code overlay so that if anyone scanned any cards, they would find that it was just a holo-datacard, one to project various pictures. Stuffing the completed data cards into his satchel, Tycho pressed a few buttons on each of the recording equipment, wiping everything and initiated a meltdown on the equipment. No one would find out what had happened.

He took one last look around the TIE cockpit before opened the hatch and climbed out into a room full of whining ion engines and noisy pilots. Climbing down the exterior ladder of his TIE, he jumped the last few bars to the ground and took off his helmet and breathed in a lung full of air…and almost promptly choked at the foul smelling air he had just breathed it.

_Gah…it stinks…_ he took in small breaths as he tried to quell his stomach from threatening to throw up whatever he had a day ago. He glanced around and found the gate where people were walking in and being processed through by Customs Officials.

Throwing the rope of the satchel behind his shoulder and tucking his helmet underneath his right arm, Tycho made his way towards the Customs area, occasionally acknowledging some of the pilots who called to him and asked where he his patrol was. Some even sympathized with him, saying that the Milagro Sector was a hot spot at the moment and to enjoy his stay before heading back to the battlefield.

He finally made his way into Customs and gave the officer on duty his card and placed his satchel through a detector.

“So, coming from the Milagro System, eh, Captain Tynnia?” the officer spoke with an air of boredom.

“Yes sir,” Tycho snapped a curt nod of respect, which got the officer’s attention.

“Captain, you’re an Alderaanian. I know that politeness is part of the culture, but here, you’re on reprieve so relax a little,” the officer quirked a fake smile to which Tycho gave the equal, but full measure of.

“I know that sir, but my reprieve doesn’t start until I walk through Customs,” he replied, knowing that it was the sort of thing Tynnia would say. Farell Tynnia was a respectful man, polite though demanding of his subordinates. The only flaw was that he was a skirt chaser.

The officer shrugged and handed him back his identification card, “You’re clear Captain, now you can relax and have some fun before you head back out.”

“Thanks,” Tycho replied then rounded past the officer and took his satchel and walked into the broad stretch of a plaza that held a lot of neon lit shops and flashing lights. Music was playing at a full volume, but Tycho ignored all of that and sat down on a bench that was framing a chala’a tree. He took a look at the tree to see it respond with different colors to the music and general noise of the plaza. Taking his eyes off the tree, he looked around to see various Imperial officers and some civilians milling around.

One family was pointing out the various bright colors, the small children oohing and ahhing at the sights. He quirked a small smile as he watched the family pass by. They didn’t seem to be affected by the war going on and there was something about the children that reminded him of his own family…

He bashed the thoughts of his family away. He didn’t need to think about anything related to his life. He had to focus on the mission, it was what his training taught him to do. Now where was his contact…

“Um…excuse me,” a soft female voice brought his head around to see a fairly tall young woman, dressed in a nicely cut business suit staring at him. She had dark brown hair with a bit of a blonde streak that was tied tightly into a severe bun. Her eyes were of a green color and they showed that she meant business. “I’m looking for a person to interview for the Daily Alliance. I was wondering if you would like to answer a few questions?”

Tycho nodded at the choice of her words. This was his contact all right. “Sure. Just give me a second for me to record all this on my datacards. I want a copy to send out to my friends in the Milagro System,” he replied naturally, the coded words to identify himself, while he took his satchel and pretended to look through it.

Anyone watching them carefully would have noticed an ordinary, but very beautiful holo-journalist trying to interview a pilot that had just come down for shore leave.

“Oh no, its okay. I think your friends will see this in due time,” his contact replied then stuck out a hand to which he shook firmly. “I have a room where we can talk privately.”

He nodded then took his things and followed her, dodging the various people walking around until they came to one of the brightly lit shops that said [Daily Alliance News]. Tycho followed his contact in and soon came to a blank white office with people walking in and out, some shouting about the latest news, other just looking over their datapads.

“The name is Ella Westerly, holo-journalist for the Daily Alliance,” his contact introduced herself and gestured to a semi-empty worktable for them to sit down.

“Captain Farell Tynnia,” Tycho replied then placed his satchel on top of the table, “Here’s the data the General told me to collect to give to the Daily Alliance for their analysis so that the interview could be conducted in the right way and you get all the information you want.”

“Right. We’ll process these through one by one,” Ella gave him small package with a few datacards on top, “this is for more data to be collected so this interview can be a success. We will contact you over the days you will be here. Other than that, enjoy yourself.”

Tycho nodded, noticing the dismissive gesture and opened the satchel and took out the datacards he had with him. He slid them across the slightly cluttered table, “The information my bosses gave to me is hopefully sufficient to aid you in writing your article for the Daily Alliance.”

“We’ve gotten word on your place of stay, so if I have anymore questions, may I please ask?” Ella took the datacards and fanned through them a bit.

“Sure, go ahead,” Tycho replied then stood up as Ella did to. He shook her hand, and gave her a small smile, “I hope to be talking to you soon, Ms. Westerly.”

“I am a professional journalist, Captain Tynnia. I’ll be back for more questions,” Ella replied in a cold voice that jolted Tycho a bit as he kept the smile on his face.

_Sounds exactly like Winter…but…no…I know it’s not her…but its someone like her with an accent that sounds almost…Corellian…_

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Finally done with this chapter! Just to remind peoples, this fic will be coming out real slow cause of school and life. I almost wish it was summer vacation again. Anyways, I guess its time to check on Wedge and the others for a brief cameo. Oh yeah, guess whose Tycho’s contact?!

 

**Character Profile:** Ella Westerly (I forgot to add her to the character profile on the first chapter…whoops.)

If the name doesn’t get you, then you probably have been stuck in a hole for the last century or so. Ella is a highly trained professional agent for the New Republic. She has many guises and Ella Westerly is not her real name, but a name she took on when she was on Corellia secretly feeding small information to the Alliance (NR). With her brown hair and golden highlights, she is considered attractive, but she is also icy cold when it comes down to her work, just like her partner, Winter.

 

# Chapter 3

 

Roughly two weeks had passed since he arrived on Courscant, but Tycho didn’t really pay attention to the time that has passed. He had found a lot of interesting information regarding the whole planet’s defense and other systems. The orbital solar collection mirrors were by far the most interesting, in his opinion. He figured that if the Alliance were to take over the planet, they would use one of them to conjure up one of the biggest fast-moving storms on the planet. It would be the perfect cover for fighters and various assault troops to land.

So far, all the information was shipped out by various routes, his contact, Ella Westerly, gave him within the past days, each day even each hour, a new route and code, so that the information wouldn’t be read and intercepted by Imperial sources. Now, he sat in his little hotel room, near the platform where his TIE fighter was docked, his hands folded back behind his head and him resting on a semi-comfortable bed.

Courscant was a bit contrast in comparison from where he was raised, on the outskirts of the capital Aldera on Alderaan. He had been to the citywide planet before, only a couple of times during his time in the Imperial Academy, but he hadn’t stayed for such a long time, not like this. Compared to the bustling city, the outskirts of Aldera was like a farmland, hell, it was a farmland.

Closing his bright blue eyes, Tycho shifted slightly on the bed, letting his thoughts wander. He listened to the monotonous drone of the traffic outside the window of his room, occasionally disturbed by a whining beep from a skiff or a transport, which probably went into the wrong lane of the various lanes of traffic. It hadn’t been a minute with his eyes closed when a beeping from his comlink alerted him and he sat up, blinking away the sleepiness in his eyes.

The beeping continued and he fished out his comlink and activated it. “Captain Tynnia speaking.”

“Captain, this is Ella Westerly of the Daily Alliance. I would like to offer a proposal for you. Can you meet me by the booth of the snappers in five minutes? Bring your things with you,” Ella’s precise clipped voice spoke with an underlying tone of warning in them.

“Sure thing. Be there in three sweetheart,” he added with a slightly roguish smile on his face then shut the link off. Since the weeks he had arrived he had been getting into his cover part more and more, sometimes spending time at various local tap cafés and talking with the young women over there, but always on the look out for any signs of covert activity that he could report to the Alliance when he got back.

He slid off his bed and quickly packed his things into the small duffel bag that he had brought with him. That was a coded message he had received from Ella for him, he was going back to the Alliance. Obviously the information he had shipped out in the various routes was enough for the Alliance to prepare an attack on the citywide planet. Scouring his room once more, he did a quick check to see if he left anything behind that if Imps were to find would be able to trace him and identify him. Seeing nothing that would jeopardize his safety he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and walked out the door to meet Ella.

* * *

Wedge stretched slightly in the tap café that was aboard the _New Hope_ , orbiting in the Milagro System. Stifling another yawn of weariness he blinked and looked across to the table where Luke was staring down at a mug of café, his eyes concentrated on something. “Luke, you okay? You’ve been spacing out…”

“Huh? Oh,” Luke snapped out of his musings and gave him a wan smile, “just thinking. It feels weird that there’s nothing to do at the moment. I just wish-” He stopped talking just as Wedge sat up, spotting Janson and Hobbie walking over to them, Hobbie’s mournful face even droopier than usual. Even the ever so happy go-lucky prankster Janson was looking grim and serious.

“Commander,” Janson greeted formally, saluting both him and Luke then handed him a sheet of paper. “Those are our transfer orders…”

“Wait, you’re transferring out of Rogue Squadron?” Wedge found his voice full of suspicion and anxiety as he scanned the orders.

“After our mission, Commander,” Janson replied, his voice not at all joking or giving any hints of a joke, just grim seriousness. “The rest of the squadron is also considering…Plourr wants to go back to Eiattu to continue to help her people rebuild the planet, Feylis and Avan want to settle down with each other, Colonel Fel feels that he can pry more information from General Cracken about his wife, Wynssa Starflare, and Nrin…” there was a bit of hesitation in Janson’s voice and Wedge knew why. On their last mission, Nrin’s companion and fellow Rogue pilot Ibtisam had perished, leaving him distraught and alone.

“And you two?” he just still couldn’t believe that his squadron was falling apart so quickly. It seemed that their last mission to retrieve Sate Pestage had affected everyone somehow…

“On those orders,” Hobbie nodded to the two sheets of data that he held in his hand, “the NR wants us as trainee instructors for the ‘next generation of future fighter pilots’ as they call it.”

Glancing down at the sheets he saw that they were signed by both the recently promoted General Salm and Admiral Ackbar. He heaved a weary sigh. This couldn’t be happening…his squadron that he had pulled the best pilots and molded them into an awesome fighting force to be reckoned with, pulled them through some narrow margins of victories, was falling apart with this order sheet signed by the head of the New Republic Navy…

“I’m sorry Commander-“ Hobbie started but Wedge shook his head.

“No…” he hesitated then looked at them, “I knew something like this was going to happen…just not so soon. I expected them, as soon as I started to form Rogue Squadron that they would take the lot of you and pull you all away for you to go off into different branches. As soon as we’re done here, then you can tell the rest that Rogue Squadron has been disbanded.”

Three pairs of shocked eyes stared back at him and he could see that Luke was also startled by the news. _It comes down to this…but I guess it’s for the best…_

* * *

Drumming his fingers on a table near the booth of the snappers Tycho try to do his best not to look too impatient. Ella was already ten minutes late and she was usually punctual. He half wondered if she had been caught by imperial agents but his other half told him that she was too good to be caught by agents. Then where was she?

“Sorry,” a hasty apology was spoken overhead when Ella sat down in front of him, looking a bit winded and hurried, not at all like her usual composed self.

“What happened?” he asked, giving her once-over.

“We’ve had a problem with the internal service, here is your datacard for getting out of here. You’re still using your name but we’ve changed a few statistics to match up what Farell Tynnia would have done during his two-week leave on Courscant,” she handed him a datacard then another satchel.

“And this?” he whispered just as some Imperial officers were passing by, chatting mildly to themselves.

“Providing if you get caught by customs you can show them this. I’m not going to tell you what’s in them, but you will have to leave now. After you get past the Golan Defense Stations, head your coordinates to these,” she handed him another data card, “then make three jumps and you’ll be back at Alliance headquarters. Base One is expecting you to be back later tonight.”

“Roger that,” he nodded then tipped off a quick salute, but then held out his hand to which Ella took and he shook with a firm grip, “thank you Ms. Westerly for your time and consideration.”

“I’m glad that you answered my questions Captain Tynnia, good luck on your journey back,” Ella winked at him as he got up, slinging the two duffel bags over his shoulder and gathering his datacards with his free hand.

“Thanks,” he called back as he made his way over to customs.

* * *

Sitting himself into the cockpit of his eyeball, he glanced over the readings his fighter gave as he mused over what had happened in Customs. The guy that had processed him in had also processed him out, and raised an eyebrow at the second satchel that Ella had given to him. Even he was startled by its contents and almost lost himself to a blush that was threatening to rise on his face. As soon as he got into his eyeball he had stuffed the horrid items in the far reaches of the cockpit, so he wouldn’t have to see any of its contents on his way home.

“This is Captain Tynnia, requesting permission to pass through the Golan Defense Stations,” he keyed his comlink and spoke in a drawling voice of a person that had enjoyed his stay to the fullest.

“Permission granted Captain, have a safe flight back to your convoy,” the controller at the Golan Defense Stations replied as he pushed more power into his throttle and shot away from the citywide planet.

He flew out of the reaches of Courscant's gravity wells and keyed the first of four coordinates for his nav computer to calculate the hyperspace jump when there was a sudden bleeping.

He glanced at the bleeping and it suddenly registered in his mind…

Tycho suddenly was knocked forward as a gigantic wave of crackling blue electricity slammed into him from behind, knocking out all his systems. Sithspawn…he cursed silently as he glanced at the controls. He noticed that the self-destruct system was also short circuited, leaving him unable to kill himself.

A clanging noise from above made him look up to see an Imperial Star Destroyer looming over his tiny TIE fighter, and a crane bringing his dead eyeball up to its hanger bay. Looking out of the view port as his eyeball was rising to level, he saw many stormtroopers with blasters pointed at him and he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let them get him alive…

The hissing of his fighter being opened made his muscles tense up and he turned around to fend off his attacks when a blinding pain from behind his neck made his world turn black. _No…can’t let…_

* * *

“Take him away,” an icy cold voice ordered. Her mismatched blue-red eyes glittered with a maniacal, but calculated look. _Tycho Celchu you’re going to be a new pawn in my game…_

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

**Ominous music plays** Hee hee…how did you all like that chapter? I know it’s short and to the point and doesn’t have too much detail but I want to get to the good parts! So stay tooned for the next chapter where Wedge is still thunderstruck from the squadron’s break up to the beginnings of Tycho’s hellish life at Lusankya. There’s also going to be a new character that I forgot to add to the character profile, her name is Grania. For those who have read the comics, you may remember her as the lady that killed Admiral Lon Isoto with that drink in _Mandatory Retirement_.

 

# Chapter 4 ( **Revised)**

 

The shuddering jolt of the starship jumping out of lightspeed was enough to wake Tycho up from his stun-induced nap. He snapped open his blue eyes, startled by how hard the ship had jumped from lightspeed into normal space. The reverberating metal where he laid on made him realize that he was pretty close to the engines. Close to the engines but in a cell.

The onslaught of memories slammed into his mind, waking him up fully as he realized that he was in a cell, on a ship, his pilot gear stripped of him, leaving him only in the flightsuit that he had been wearing when he tried to make his escape from Courscant.

Courscant!

He had been there to collect information for the Rebel Alliance, to help them determine what they would face when they took over the citywide planet. Had all the information he had sent through various channels gone out safely? He didn’t know as another shudder jumped through the ship, making him hit his head on the wall next to the bunk he had been sleeping on.

That was also when he realized that he ached all over his body. Every single part, every single muscle or nerve twitched with fiery pain, and he peeled back a part of his flightsuit and saw that his arm was an angry purple-red… The only part where he hadn’t felt pain was the back of his head, but that was a moot point as he had only bumped it moments ago, sending a fresh wave of pain lancing through his skull.

Slowly the whine of the Star Destroyer’s engines faded away and he realized that they had docked. Which meant that they would be coming for him soon. He glanced around to see if there was anything he could use to either kill himself or escape from his prison, but all he could see were just the metal bunk, not even a scrap of pillow and just the bars on his cell. Nothing else…obviously they wanted him alive.

Resigning himself to sitting quietly, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander to what the other Rogues were doing. He hoped that they were faring well in their mission and that none of them died during that time, but with war, you could never be too sure.

Winter…he hoped that she was all right, in whatever her mission was. He knew that she wouldn’t allow herself to be captured and even if with everything short circuited she would find a way to kill herself lest let her holographic memory be put to use by the Imperial forces. He had found out, not too long ago, that Winter had a memory that spanned her whole lifetime. She could never forget anything or anyone and he realized that it was very hard on her, especially with the destruction of Alderaan. But it was her holographic memory that made her into such an efficient Intelligence personnel.

Suddenly, Tycho’s ears pricked to the sound of booted feet, marching in unison, their step getting louder and louder. He allowed a grim smile to flit across his features before settling it back into a mask of impassivity, but did not open his eyes.

The marching got louder and louder until it stopped abruptly. There was the click of his cell door being opened and two pairs of shuffling feet stepped into his cell.

“Get up, Rebel scum,” the metallic ting of a stormtrooper’s voice said into the quiet and he felt the sharp jab of the stormtrooper’s rifle dig into his side.

He hesitated for a little, showing some defiance before slowly rising to his feet and glared at the unseeing eyes of the stormtrooper who had poked him with his rifle. His own battered reflection glared back at him through the reflective shine of the trooper’s black eyepieces and with a start, he realized how badly he had been beaten. Already, a swollen bruise on his right cheek was beginning to show an angry purple, something he didn’t even feel…

“What are you starin’ at, scum? Get movin’,” the trooper shoved him slightly and he stumbled, but spread his hands out to catch himself from falling flat on his face. Just as suddenly, the other troopers raised their weapons, ready to shoot him. _Geez…trigger happy people_ , he raised his hands a little to show that he wasn’t going to do anything foolish, at least not yet, he gave them a cool stare. The officer that had come with them, but had stayed near the entrance to his cell stepped forward and bound his wrists together tightly, but not enough to cut off the circulation.

He glared at the officer, daring him to do something that would end his life. He wasn’t normally suicidal, but he knew that his capture could spell doom for the coming mission the Alliance would put together. The officer stared right back, a sneer creeping up on his imperialistic face.

“What you staring at?” the officer growled before a thoughtful look crossed his eyes briefly, “ah…thinking of making me do something to end your life? Ha! The Director wouldn’t want that to happen to her newest pet…” He began to shuck off one of his black matte leather gloves and stared at it with a wistful sigh before striking Tycho’s cheek, the unbruised left one.

Tycho blinked slightly against the painful sting, but he didn’t let his face show any pain and instead kept glaring at the officer. He could feel a welt growing there now…a suitable match to the bruised one on his right, he thought sarcastically.

“Pets must be taught obedience, and you will learn that Celchu,” the officer put his glove back on before gesturing to the stormtroopers arrayed around them to start moving. One nudged him, none to gently, and Tycho gave one more sideways glare before plodding forward.

They turned down a few corridors and he wondered where he was. Was he going to be interrogated? Tortured for fun then killed? Where was he anyways? As he kept walking he made a mental note of the bulkheads and their design. From his knowledge gathered at the Imperial Academy back when he was a naïve teenager, he knew that he was on an Imperial Star Destroyer…and probably in the detention cells which was at least ten to fifteen floors from the hanger bay…and they were heading on an upwards slant…which meant that a shuttle was probably waiting for him, to take him to wherever they had come out of hyperspace from.

Going up a few more floors, Tycho realized with a start that the hanger bay was near the fighter bays…and judging from the direction they were going…they were going to pass by the fighter bays before reaching the shuttle… A plan began to form in his mind…if he could get to a TIE Interceptor or even a TIE Fighter, he would be able to escape…forcing them to either shoot him down, or having himself blown up by its self-destruct system.

He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the booted feet of the stormtroopers. There was barely anyone in the halls, with the exception of a few technicians who gaped in awe at him or at the stormtroopers around him, and he mentally figured there was at least four behind him…two on either side of him and three up front…a nice box of a perimeter. The officer he knew, was lagging behind all…it would be hard to deal with him, but Tycho didn’t care…

Opening them once more, he noted that they were getting closer to the hanger bays…he tensed ever so slightly and tried to flex his binders, but they were locked on tightly. With a mental shake of his head, he almost laughed at the incompetence of the officer…binding his hands up front was probably the most foolish thing anyone could have done. It gave him an advantage, one he would most certainly and greatly maximize to escape.

He waited until they were just about to pass by the door that lead to the fighter bay…Now! Tycho acted swiftly and slammed his full body weight onto the trooper to his right, knocking the two startled troopers down. He rolled to his feet, his hands fumbling with a blaster rifle that he had managed to pick up and pointed it at the startled troopers.

Not wasting a second, he fired a shot and one of the troopers who was in front of him, fell down, a smoking crater in the middle of his forehead. Tycho then turned and ducked as a blaster bolt nearly singed the top of his head. He ran, his blaster hanging awkwardly from his hands as he ducked to avoid shots.

“Don’t kill him!” he dimly heard the officer scream to his men and Tycho allowed a small smile…they truly wanted him alive then. Well…no way in whatever Sith they own…

He glanced up to see the entrance to the fighter bay…a few steps away…

Pain suddenly exploded into a hazy field around his vision. He stumbled and fell as his legs gave way…He dimly felt himself hit the ground as all of his senses were focused on the pain radiating with a fiery resonance…but one clarity shone through. He had been shot…in the back…near his left hip…and it _hurt_ …

He could see blurry figures…booted feet crowd around him as he laid on his stomach, his hands folded beneath him, the imprint of the blaster he had been carrying a mere memory on his stomach. No! He had to escape! He tried to move, but gasped as another lancing pain slashed through his consciousness…

Tycho closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away…when he heard boot feet that echoed loudly to his ears approach him. They stopped and he blearily opened his eyes…noting that the spit-shine polish on the boots… A part of his mind told him that it was the officer who stood next to him… And it was, as the officer knelt down and Tycho tried to focus his gaze on him, tried to glare at him, but he couldn’t really manage it…

“You are a very bad pet…Celchu…now how am I going to explain this to the Director,” the officer’s voice sounded very sickly sweet.

“You don’t…” Tycho found that breathing was a bit hard and realized that through the haze of pain that someone was stepping on his back, pinning him to the ground. “Don’t…have to…explain…anything…bastard…”

“Now…why such a harsh language? Especially from a pet? No, no…the Director will not like her pets with such language,” the officer sneered, “but a trip through her ward and you’ll be fine…”

“What…are you…talking about?” Tycho tried to move, but the pain was still great…

“My dear Captain Celchu…welcome to Lusankya,” the officer smiled predatorily before his boot smashed into Tycho’s temple and all the Rogue knew was darkness.

* * *

Wedge Antilles once again found himself at the tap café aboard the New Hope…but this time he wasn’t as exhausted or tired. Rogue Squadron’s mission with Luke was going to end in two days…and then the squadron would be disbanded…perhaps forever…he didn’t know.

What he did know was that he was rolling around his glass of Corellian brandy…trying to find some solace in the fact that his squadron was about to be decommissioned. Where would Starfighter Command, or much less, Fleet Headquarters put him? He knew that his skills were highly valuable to the Rebel Alliance.

He served the Alliance with the best skills he had. From his parents death up to him joining the Rebel Alliance he had questioned the value and motives of so many different creatures, species, and governments. The Rebel Alliance was something he knew that would be able to fight for his ideals…and he didn’t want to let it go to waste.

He wondered where would they place him next…maybe they would have him train the younger recruits…or he could be assigned a wing of fighters like General Salm…or maybe…

Wedge thunked the glass of brandy down onto the table and rocked slightly back on his stool…yes! It was a brilliant plan…and it was something the Rebel Alliance needed, especially if Tycho’s mission was a success.

He tossed a few coins to pay the bartender and headed back to his quarters, a smile quirking on the edges of his lips. The first thing was he would have to send his proposal to Admiral Ackbar…and the second thing…was to see if any of his old pilots would want to join back up. Tycho, after coming back, would surely be glad to join…maybe even Hobbie and Janson…

He let a grin blossom on his face as he started to form the details to his plan. Rogue Squadron needn’t be disbanded…it only needed a few more new things to make it into one of the Alliance’s best symbols and something new for the Empire to fear.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

I am humbly apologizing to all those who have waited so long and so patiently for my fic. *Grovels* But after reading a few fics and watching Episode II again, my muse Haldir had just kicked my Rogue Squadron idea into high gear. I don’t know when the next chapter will appear, but it will be soon. Thank you for all those who waited patient for me. I especially like to thank Cathy Rowsell and Kelly Grosskreutz for their wonderful encouragements and to all who reviewed.

 

# Chapter 5

 

It was all about politics…everything on the peaceful pacifist planet of Alderaan was. Politics ruled everyone’s lives on Alderaan and even off-planet in some cases, from a mere baby of a family from the peasant class to the ruling House Organa. Tycho was no stranger to the dance of politics…he even mastered a few concepts of it, but he knew that he hadn’t mastered everything before he went off to the Imperial Academy in Prefsbelt IV.

Nyiestra Rhedyn had been his fiancée. Both young and in love they were the rare cases when it came to political matching. The aristocratic hierarchy of Alderaan consisted of the ruling house, which placed Senators and Planetary Governor to be top tiered. Next were the Businessmen and Corporation Executives, followed by the Merchants and Educators. The rest were piled into their own caste-like system, but were collectively known as the Working class (which included Entertainers, blue-collared and white-collared workers). Those who joined up with the Planetary Defense Force or the Alderaanian Guard were not considered to be a part of the social and political hierarchy that ruled the peaceful planet. They were regarded with both awe and distrust as socially; taking up arms wasn’t really acceptable.

But even with that hierarchy, there were some blurred lines as the Senators and the Governor relied heavily upon corporations and the public to reelect them to office. The Businessmen and Corporation Executives relied upon the Merchants to provide them with business and even relied on the Educators to provide workers who were able to think independently, but work together as a group.

It was from the Merchant class that Nyiestra’s family came up. The Celchus, being that Tycho’s father owned and was the corporate executive of Novacom, were delighted to see that their eldest son had taken and interest in a girl of the Merchant class.

Tycho knew that if he were to marry Nyiestra it would be a financial and political boon to both his family and hers. Both would be able to gain power and influence over more important matters and so the courting processes wasn’t too complicated; at least not as complicated as most other marriages were.

But that still didn’t excuse the complexity of the “courting ritual” he had to perform to Nyiestra’s family. But his task was a lot easier than his fiancée’s. She had to convince his family that by marrying him, her family could provide some kind of social gain, as they were, one class below his family. All Tycho had to do was to convince Nyiestra’s parents what the profits and long term outcomes of Novacom was by marrying his love.

Which was why Tycho wasn’t surprised to find himself sitting in the living room of the Rhedyn’s spacious estate. Like all merchants, the Rhedyns were very well off, able to afford a lot and spent most of their time in the outskirts of Aldera City, instead of living in it. Though Tycho’s family had their own estate along with a spacious apartment in the capital, it was near Crevasse City instead.

A part of his mind flashed a sense of déjà vu, but he brushed it away as nervousness. He had dreamed of this scenario for such a long time, and now it was happening…and the nervousness inside of him didn’t die down.

“Nyiestra told us that you plan to join the Imperial Academy as soon as your secondary schooling has been finished,” Mairi, Nyiestra’s mother spoke, her voice lilting and musical as she was a performance opera singer.

He didn’t sense any disapproval or contempt lacing her voice, but that still didn’t say much for Tycho. He knew that his decision to join the Academy was met by the socialites with mixed reactions, some applauding his decision to train at the Academy to serve the Empire, but many others frowned in disapproval for him backing on his planetary heritage and taking up arms.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied to her question.

“What field?” Ail, Nyiestra’s father asked, a hard glint in his icy purple eyes. Ail Rhedyn was a hard merchant, always driving his prices to competitive levels and was slow to make decisions, but that was the reason why the Rhedyn family was so popular among the merchant class…it was because of the slow, but wise decisions of Ail.

The question from Ail was something Tycho was prepared for. He had only told those that wanted to know that he had applied for and been accepted to the Imperial Academy at Prefsbelt IV, but he hadn’t told anyone what he was going to be studying. He knew that most socialites and his friends assumed that he was going to be studying politics as any good Alderaanian child would, probably training to become a military advisor or an ambassadorial attaché when he graduated.

They were all very wrong…

“I’m training at the Academy to become a pilot,” he said in a leveled voice, making sure to keep his gaze steady and his voice even. He had already told Nyiestra this, but had made her promise not to tell anyone, including her parents.

His lover knew that he loved to fly and was a pretty hot hand in the local races with the speeders and T-16 skyhoppers that the Alderaanian Guard based in Crevasse City had lent to him during his fall-winter stays in his family’s estate.

“A pilot, eh?” Ail sat back in the plush bantha leather couch in their spacious sunny bright living room. One of his hands unconsciously stroked the armrest of the couch while a thoughtful expression crossed his face.

Mairi had no comment except to purse her lips and kept her face blank. This wasn’t a good sign in Tycho’s eyes. He sat himself a bit straighter, if possible, on the leather couch across from them. Between them was a small caf-table and on it was a folder with all the datachips for the estimated yearly costs and projection of what those costs might become if he and Nyiestra were to marry. Though they had not touched the folder yet, he knew that they knew that this wedding was very beneficial to them.

Except for one problem.

The Rhedyns, when Tycho first met them, were incredibly conservative. Only Nyiestra was seemingly the liberal of the family, accepting change easily as she changed her clothes every single day. He knew that they stuck to the old traditions set forth on each family and especially the notion of what growing Alderaanian children were supposed to do with their lives.

“What kind of pilot, Tycho?” Ail waved a few fingers casually…maybe a little too casually for Tycho’s taste, but he swallowed the nervousness down. Maybe he was wrong about Nyiestra having a much harder time presenting to his family…maybe it was he presenting to her family that was going to be harder. “Shuttle? Transport?”

“A TIE pilot,” he replied firmly, deciding that truth would suffice. He had to present to them that he was going to be honest in everything, no holding back. Besides, he never felt that lying was such a good idea…well, except for fudging the truth a times.

“Oh…” Ail looked at him strangely, “a TIE pilot…interesting. Why?”

“Because…” he gave a quick look at Mairi, but she was still wearing a blank expression. Tycho found it odd, as Mairi should at least have a reaction of sorts… He turned back to Ail, “Because, I feel that my skills could be put to use to defend the Empire, the sole ruling government of this galaxy. For me to take up arms as a stormtrooper it would be going over my own personal boundaries,” he didn’t add that stormtrooper helmets and uniforms were the worst things to wear as anyone could pick off a trooper in the darkest night.

“And you think, that by doing this…flying and shooting down enemy aircraft, killing pilots, you would be able to accomplish your goal?” Ail looked skeptical.

“You don’t necessarily have to shoot down the aircraft, some of the TIE models have ion cannons to disable, not kill,” Tycho explained.

“The Empire would order you to kill,” Ail muttered darkly and Tycho suppressed the urge to raise an incredulous eyebrow at his statement. “If you join, even any factions like the Rebel Alliance, they would order you to kill…”

“What does the Alliance have to do with this?” Tycho asked, confused. He only heard rumors about a rebellion uprising against the Empire, but the news networks didn’t really report much, as they were more focused on the growing concern of Courscant and the Imperial Senate. Did Ail and Mairi hear more about the Alliance than anyone?

It was logical, as like their fellow merchants, the Thul family, they were exposed to a great amount of traders from all over the galaxy. But something didn’t seem right about this…

“I suppose you haven’t heard…the _Rebel Alliance_ ,” his voice was dripping with contempt for the faction, “attacked one of the Caamasi colonies and drove all of them to hiding.”

“No…they wouldn’t do that…” Tycho blinked at the news. The Caamasi were a peaceful alien people…friends of Alderaan, “The Caamasi are peaceful…what could they do to warrant such an attack?”

“Apparently, they were Imperial sympathizers,” Ail shook his head sadly, “I heard something about documents that were stolen by the Rebels…” The older man suddenly produced a folder from a drawer that Tycho hadn’t noticed before, “I have something to show you, young man…though I have my reservations, and I fully approve of your decision to apply to the Academy.”

“Y-You what?” he blinked, totally caught off guard. He didn’t know that Ail would agree so readily…it wasn’t what he predicted… He looked towards Mairi, but she still didn’t have any expression on her face…as if she had been frozen forever in carbonite. “But…I thought…” a thoughtful crossed his face, “did Nyiestra tell you, the both of you?”

“No son, but anyone brave enough to bear arms for the Empire is a hero,” Ail clapped him with a cheeriness that Tycho found unnerving. Something definitely wasn’t right here…

### “Tycho…Alderaan was destroyed a few days ago…”

The sudden intrusion of a disembodied voice startled him and he looked around, unawares that Ail had gone on rambling about his service to the Empire and how wonderful it will be.

### Ease up on it Celchu…you volunteered for this mission…

Mission?! What mission? Was he supposed to be somewhere? His head suddenly felt light…dizzy… Tycho blinked rapidly to keep his gaze focused on Ail and Mairi…to pass out in front of Nyiestra’s parents, now that would be a field day for his friends to tease him about.

No! His friends…they…they were all dead? No…he had new friends…

“You know…Bail Antilles’ son, Laruv…” Ail started before his voice faded away, as he focused on the single word Ail said. Antilles…yes…he knew someone by that name…

Wedge Antilles…

Wedge…was…his commander? Of what?

Sitting in the cockpit of an a-wing, he fired his proton torpedoes, blasting a TIE fighter he had been pursuing to pieces… That trench run through the second Death Star was like flying through the maw of a Sith, but he managed it…

No…that wasn’t it…Wedge…commander…a rogue… No…not a rogue, but a _Rogue_.

Rogue Squadron.

“ _Heard you tangled with Fel’s second…”_

“ _He was good, but ran before we could decide anything.”_

_Wes Janson…Hobbie Klivan… Fel…Baron Fel was his instructor…at Prefsbelt IV? But wasn’t he going to be going there? Had he already gone there?_

“ _Tycho?” Ail’s voice snapped him out of the fog he was in and he noticed that his breathing was heavy…and both Ail and Mairi were looking at him with concern. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again…the same uneasy feeling was still there._

“ _It’s not right,” he whispered, rubbing his face as he stood up, the uneasy feeling getting stronger. He felt kind of sluggish…as if moving through murky water._

“ _Son? You okay?” Ail stood up also and reached out._

“ _No!” Tycho shouted standing up, and batted his hand away. He backed up as more memories flooded into him._

“ _Surely, Lieutenant Celchu, you aren’t suggesting that female Rebels lack courage!”_

“ _The Empire’s decline should be obvious to even the most casual of observers.”_

“ _For so long I served order, that to join the rebellion is not easy. You did not have this problem?”_

“ _Alderaan’s being reduced to rubble killed my qualms.”_

_With a sudden clarity, Tycho knew that someone was manipulating him…and drugs were in his system… He stared at the people who claimed to be Nyiestra’s parents then all around the makeshift living room. “I’m not playing! I’m not going to play your game!” he shouted, looking wildly around and backed up from his seat stumbling slightly._

_Tycho suddenly blinked open his eyes. A dim grey ceiling greeted his vision… His eyes traced the ceiling all around and he turned his head to his left and right…it was all grey, no glowpanels, no breakage in the monotonous walls to indicate an entrance of sorts…where was he?_

_It was then that he noticed that his jaw hurt and he forced himself to unclench his teeth. Trying to pick his head up, he finally felt a strap over his forehead, pinning him to what felt like a metal slab held at an angle. He looked down and saw that the only clothes he had on were pants and that cords and wires were attached to patches all over his bare chest._

_Surprisingly he didn’t feel cold…in fact he didn’t really feel anything at all. He tried to flex his fingers, his arms hanging slack at his sides, but found that they wouldn’t respond to his impulses. It was as if his whole body had been numbed with some kind of drug, but he only could move his head._

“ _I…” speaking hurt and he desperately tried to swallow some moisture into his throat, but that hurt even. Tycho grimaced slightly as he tried to form words and let his voice work past his raw throat._

“ _I…w-won’t…play…y-your…game,” he managed to croak out before the pain was too great and he twisted his head to the side to let the cool metal he was lying on touch his cheek. He winced as his bruised cheek made contact with the metal._

“ _On the contrary,” the blast of a feminine voice startled Tycho and he winced at the loudness of the voice booming all over the walls. It hurt his ears…and it rattled through his brain, as if the voice was both talking to him from the outside and inside his mind. “You will play…”_

_There was silence and Tycho wondered if something was going to appear. He twisted his head as much as his pounding, pulsing headache would allow him too, but he didn’t see anything… A tingling sensation started from the base of his spine and he thought that he was getting his sense of feeling back…_

… _Until the sensation suddenly exploded through his spine, all the way up from the small of his back to his brain. His mouth fell open to his own accord and Tycho screamed as tendrils of electricity rushed their way through him, firing pain into every single one of his nerves. He could feel his body loosing control, twitching as each tendril of electrical current wreaked havoc on his nervous system._

_Blue sparks escaped from his body through his mouth and nose as he twisted this way and that, trying to shake the patches and wires on him. He could smell a distinct odor…but still the pain was overwhelming him…_

_Just as suddenly, the pain stopped, leaving his body twitching uncontrollably in its wake. He gasped, his chest heaving in an effort to calm his nerves down. His hands clenched and unclenched in their own accord and every part of his body felt like it was on fire. It hurt so badly…and he twisted his head to the side, letting out a small whimper of pain. His squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, trying to pull against his bonds that held him in place. It hurt…_

_He could feel something running down the side of his lip and he licked it, hoping it was water…but no…it tasted coppery, and a metallic tinge that he smelled and tasted before. No…just only blood…_

“ _You will obey, Tycho Celchu,” the voice came back; making the fine-tuning his ears received from the electric current, sound harsh and loud. He tried to cover his ears, twisting his head to the side, not caring if he was damaging himself further._

“ _I…won’t,” he gasped as his nerves returned to their own control, but still a bit twitchy, “obey…”_

“ _Hmmm…no? Then…” the voice abruptly cut off and Tycho twisted slightly to see…_

_The explosion of electricity assaulting his body made him arch his back as his eyes popped open and he screamed again. He twisted his head and arms, trying to break free of the metallic cuffs that attached him to this slab. He clenched his fists and pulled against his bonds… Free…have to be free…_

_What was probably only a few minutes, but felt like eternity, the electrical assault suddenly stopped, and Tycho slammed with a bone jarring force back onto the angled slab. His body continued to twitch in its own accord and his teeth chattered as a trickle of blood still ran down the side of his lip. Sweat bathed his body and dripped down according to their own lazy path. His fists clenched tightly, more so than what was safe. He could feel their muscles tightening…tightening past the point of pain…they wouldn’t loosen…_

_He groaned in pain as he tried to unclench his fists…but nothing seemed to make them respond._

_A whirling noise seemed to buzz in his head, and he looked blearily to his right…nothing… To his left…he squinted, as his vision was slightly jarred from the electrical currents. There was a curious black ball floating in the air…_

_The black ball came closer and as it did, the whirling noise became louder…and louder…and louder…_

_As the unseen door shut behind the Imperial interrogation droid no one heard the anguished scream of Lusankya’s latest prisoner._

_* * *_

_The doors to another part of the prison facility, Lusankya, opened and two stormtroopers marched in, their blasters drawn. They held them at the huddled mass of dirty, dingy prisoners, ready to shoot any of them._

_Behind them, two more dragged a limp, bloodied body in. They dumped the body onto the floor unceremoniously before marching back out. The stormtroopers gave one look at the huddled prisoners before marching out themselves. As soon as they were out, the door slid shut behind them with a hiss, leaving the prisoners in a muted light._

_No one dared approach the body that was dumped there. It was probably a trap, they reasoned, something for them to get their hopes up before they exploded…_

_After a few minutes of staring at the body, two people cautiously went forward and nudged the body with their foot. There was no response and they nudged it again, this time harder. Still, there was no response._

_One of the two that went forward suddenly flipped the body over, exposing the body’s face. “He’s young…new…” the one who flipped the body over, commented._

“ _He looks quite dead, Jan,” his companion replied._

“ _No…” the man named Jan checked the body over, noting that the man only wore a pair of pants and had bruises and welts all over the place, “he’s just unconscious…probably concussion… Come on Lieutenant Tayib…help me here.”_

“ _You sure?” the man named Tayib asked, a bit skeptical._

“ _Would you have done the same for me, Dysune?” Jan asked, glaring at Tayib._

“ _Yes sir…” Tayib looked reluctant, but helped carry the body away from its former resting place._

_* * *_

_**Author’s Notes:** _

_Hee hee…now you wanna go and hug Tycho, ne? More torture coming up…^_^x. I am so on a writing streak!_

 

# Chapter 6

 

He was in a dream world, drifting in and out of consciousness… He saw faces swarming above him, faces that he didn’t recognize. At least most of them were all elderly faces and they looked down at him with concern.

“…taking so much…”

“Sithspit…”

“…have to keep him sedated…”

“Blood…loosing blood…”

“…torture…again…can’t heal…”

The voice kept drifting in an out and though Tycho barely had an inkling of what was going on, he could feel that his battered, bruised, and abused body was healing…very slowly, but healing nonetheless.

He drifted along the planes of his subconscious, dreaming of a better time…

 

Laughter permeated through the walls of the secondary school yard as the upperclassmen of 16 and 17 year olds of the school played a furious but fun game of Speedball. It wasn’t so much as scoring a point in the game, but the game itself.

“ _Hey Tych! Over here!” Tycho glanced up at his classmate, Dravin who was running down the court, arms outstretched to receive the foamy ball. He wound up and threw with all his might and watched as the white ball floated in the air…dropping to the ground…straight into Dravin’s arms._

“ _Goal for Blue Team! Blue Team leading ten to six,” their physical education teacher called out, a grin on her face, “come on Gold Team, get those points back!”_

_The whistle blew again and the jump ball went to the Gold Team. Tycho ran across to the right side of the gym and jumped up in the air, swatting the ball to one of his teammates. He grinned at the thrower of the ball, a Gold Team player, who glared at him._

“ _Remember you have to pass the ball to a girl before you score, or else it won’t count!” their gym teacher shouted as the ball made its way deeper into the Gold Team’s area._

_He suppressed a snort of derision…who in the Sith made up that rule that there was fair play and especially passing to a girl on their team was probably high on glit. Sure there were a few girls on his team and on the others who were rough-and-tumble, playing with all of their heart, but most of the girls in his gym class were complete airheads, always standing around like statues just talking and looking at their nails. Some were talking about the actor Face Loran and how cute he was to be their age, while others just gossiped about political news and different philosophies._

_While Tycho did like philosophy, as did any of his classmates, he also liked to have fun at times…and resented the fact that these girls were just standing around…maybe hitting a few of them wouldn’t be so bad…_

“ _Arston!” he called over to one of the Gold Team players who was also one of his good friends, and nodded his head in the direction of the talking girls who were totally oblivious to anything going on in the gym. Even their teacher had given up hope for the girls, resorting not to call them to play or make an effort to play. After all, it was near the end of the school year, and close to their graduation._

_There was a buzz about this year’s graduates and their placements to higher education, as there were a few talented ones. Tycho knew that some of his classmates hoped to at least get an attaché spot with the current senator of Alderaan Bail Organa or even the chance to be elected Senator when Organa resigned, but he had a feeling that Organa’s daughter Leia was to be chosen as his replacement._

_Long ago, Tycho was a good friend of Leia and her best friend, whose name he had long forgotten, but they had grown apart after they moved to the inner posh section of Aldera City and had enrolled in a private institution. He knew that his mother’s sister was one of a surrogate Aunt for Leia Organa, changing her name of Rabé to Rouge in the presence of Leia and kept in contact with the Organas, but even that was somewhat strained at times._

“ _What’s up Celchu?” Arston asked, coming over while also keeping an eye on the ball, “damn you peoples…get it out of there!” he shouted to his teammates and Tycho grinned._

“ _We are so kicking you ass to the Core worlds,” he gave a good-natured slap to his friend’s shoulder._

“ _Oh shut up Celchu. Just because your team is winning doesn’t mean you have to gloat about it,” Arston smirked, “so…what did you want to tell me…surely you didn’t call me over to taunt me?”_

“ _Maybe I did,” Tycho replied but then shook his head, “how about we give those girls in the corner a bit of a wake up call? You know…like an early graduation present?”_

_Arston glanced at the group of girls huddled in the corner, giggling at something and his grin deepened, “Sure thing…I’ll tell the others, since everyone’s down at our end.”_

“ _Just don’t tell the girls that are playing. Ny and the others will probably object,” he warned his friend who shrugged._

“Yeah, yeah…don’t hurt your poor little girlfriend and stuff,” Arston waved his concerns off, “don’t worry…”

 

The memory faded away and Tycho faintly remembered the aftermath of their little plan. They did get the girls to pay attention and even their gym teacher was relieved that someone had the audacity to literally knock some sense into the girls, but as a result, he, Arston, and a few others received detention in which they had to discuss and write a five page paper on philosophy with their extremely boring philosophy teacher.

“I think he’s coming to…”

“…let him rest…”

The voices broke into Tycho’s foggy thoughts and he listened to them with a certain degree of curiosity. Who was talking? He could discern concern in the voices speaking…were they talking about him? He was perfectly fine, thank you very much…at least…he thought he was.

He mentally shook his head…he vaguely remembered something… Wait! He was a prisoner…somewhere…

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling as if duracrete was holding them shut. The light blinded him temporarily and he squeezed them shut, the headache he had before returning back full force. Wait…he had a headache before? When?

Tycho dismissed his rambling thoughts as he slowly opened his eyes once more…this time cautiously. He saw a dim outline of a ceiling above him…with a few stalactites hanging down. He could hear a distant murmuring of voices…and the rumble of what sounded like engines but he wasn’t too sure. The smell though, it picked at his senses.

Musty and damp was what the place smelled like. Its deep earth-enriching sense reminded him of his times in his family’s Crevasse City estate. He tried to move his fingers and found that they were lying on the ground…in fact his whole body was on the ground, and a blanket was covering his naked chest. The dirt on the ground dug small craters on his exposed back but he didn’t mind as it felt warm and soft…

Suddenly a face looming over his obscured his vision of the ceiling. Tycho could see that the person was male, judging from its long beard growth. He had yellow teeth and dirt smudged face, but his crystal light brown eyes were friendly. It was also then that he realized that the man looming above him was saying something.

“Hey…you all right buddy?” the man asked.

“I…think so,” Tycho replied, at least tried to work his mouth to reply. He could feel a numbing agent all over his body…dulling some of his receptors, but not enough so that he couldn’t move.

“Don’t try to move too much, you’ll just bruise yourself again,” the man murmured, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him from trying to prop himself up.

“Bruise?” at least that was what Tycho thought he said as his tongue felt heavy and his mouth tasted like he had wads of cloth stuck into it.

“Yeah…bruises…” the man looked away for a second and he caught a flash of anger and sympathy in the man’s eyes before he turned back. “Here…drink some water…it’ll do you good.” The man held a cup to his lips and poured some water in. He greedily sucked at the water…and nearly gagged on its horrible taste. It tasted like sewer mix with dirt…a rotten taste all over his mouth and he choked slightly before he was forced to swallow it.

The man kept pouring water in and Tycho tried in vain to shake his head. He didn’t want anymore of the foul water. Spitting what the man gave him, out, he turned his head to the side and coughed, trying to get rid of the awful aftertaste.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know…it’s all we’ve got,” the man replied a bit sadly, but Tycho looked at him from the corner of his eyes while still trying to spit out the aftertaste and saw that he had set the cup down somewhere out of the range of his vision.

“S-Sith…spit…” he managed, letting his cheek rest on the cool dirt, “the…h-hell was…that?”

“Water,” the man replied in a simple but firm tone.

“Taste…like…bantha shit,” Tycho replied slowly, feeling the ache and cotton-like feeling in his mouth slowly go away. Even if the water was foul it still helped moist his parched throat.

“That’s what they all say kid,” the man’s voice rumbled with a gentle laugh, “former Rebel Alliance Lieutenant Dysune Tayib at your service.”

Tycho turned away from his cool dirt-pillow and stared up at the man who had fed him the water. He noticed that the man who called himself Dysune Tayib was a lot older than he was, probably in his mid-forties, and a few mites crawled from his beard to different places.

He nodded a greeting and tried to remember what was the proper way of addressing his captor, after all, he probably was a prisoner and didn’t even know this person. He didn’t even trust the fact that Dysune was what he claimed to be, a Lieutenant with the Rebel Alliance.

“Tycho…Celchu,” he swallowed past a dry patch in his throat, “Captain, New Republic Space Force…serial number…68970024.”

Dysune stared at him for a second before bursting out with laughter. The laughter hurt Tycho’s ears and he winced, but after a few seconds, he got used to it. He watched as the man laughed himself to tears before subsiding after a few more seconds. “Sorry kid, but I know…you don’t trust any of us,” he gestured beyond him and for the first time, Tycho noticed with his limited vision, through the dim earthy-room that there were at least more than fifty people in the room, some doing their own business, others just staring at him curiously. “But, tell you what…you can cut that P.O.W. act when you’re around us, after all, we’re also prisoners, like you.”

Tycho didn’t answer and instead stared at Dysune who grinned his yellow teeth again and disappeared from his sight only to reappear a few seconds later, this time with another scraggly man behind him. “Celchu…this is Jan,” he introduced the scraggly man, “Jan…Captain Tycho Celchu, New Republic Space Force officer.”

“New Republic?” Jan’s voice sounded a bit winded, but strong and Tycho was struck with an odd sense of familiarity. He had heard this voice somewhere before…but he didn’t really remember where. “What happened to the Alliance?”

He didn’t know if he could trust these people, but after all, they did heal him… He decided to be truthful and if they were Imperials or if they were bounty hunters that captured him, the truth wouldn’t hurt…too much, he hoped. “Rebel Alliance…defeated the Empire at Endor…killed the Emperor and Vader…turn to New Republic…”

The dryness to his throat had returned and he wished that he didn’t spit that mouthful of water out to the side, even if it tasted horrible. It seemed that Dysune read his mind as he produced the cup of water and poured some into his mouth. He swallowed gratefully, trying not to gag on its terrible taste.

“By the Emperor’s black bones…” Jan sat back, a stunned expression on his face. The expression lasted only for a few seconds before a joyous one replaced it and he smiled from ear to ear. “Yes, yes, yes!” he hissed cheerfully before leaning forward again, “this is true isn’t it?”

Tycho nodded slowly wondering what had gotten into this wizened old man. A gut instinct told him that he could trust him, and even trust Dysune, but he wasn’t too sure. He wondered where he was…and though a thought kept nagging at him, he didn’t really dwell on it too much.

“Thank you for the wonderful news,” Jan patted him on the shoulder, but Tycho couldn’t feel too much of it because of the numbing agent in his body. “I’ll be talking to Urlor Sette, Dysune…see if you can make him comfortable and give him painkillers at every interval,” he turned to Dysune before crawling away.

“Painkillers?” Tycho found that speech was a lot easier after the second drink of water, but his mind was still fuzzy for all details. He could sense that there were gaps of memory that he couldn’t remember, and everything seemed to be in cobwebs.

“You were beaten badly, kid…the reason you really can’t feel anything is because we’ve pumped at least lots of painkillers into you,” Dysune lifted one of his limp arms and Tycho blinked at the masses of bruises and welts on his exposed skin. At least his entire arm was covered with discoloration of the skin.

“Where…am I?” he wondered.

“You’re Alderaanian, aren’t you?” Dysune didn’t answer his question.

“Yes…” he replied in a steady voice.

“Sorry about your planet, kid,” Dysune replied with a sincere sadness that confirmed Tycho’s suspicion. He had heard many people speak to him about Alderaan because of his accent and could tell the difference between false sincerity and actual sincerity. Dysune’s voice was that one of regret…

“Not…your fault,” Tycho replied.

“But it is…” Dysune looked resigned, “I…was a part of the _Tantive IV_ crew…Vader captured us above Tatooine and if we had been better…the Princess wouldn’t have been captured and Alderaan wouldn’t have been blown up…” He trailed off as he withdrew into himself.

_But if Alderaan hadn’t been blown up…then I’d be one of the Imperial’s greatest pilots at this moment…not stuck in this prison. But I wouldn’t have met Winter…Wedge…the others…_ He was tempted to say these things, but he wasn’t too sure if anyone who was an Imperial would be listening… He didn’t want to give away the people or information that would be a weakness to him.

Instead he settled for repeating his question, “Where am I?”

“Oh…” Dysune looked a bit perturbed but then glanced to somewhere unseen before picking up his limp arm again, “Hmm…I think you need another painkiller soon.”

He grabbed something out of the line of vision for Tycho and he saw that it was needle of sorts. Injecting it in his bare arm, he didn’t really feel anything, but soon, he could feel his muscles relax. His mind told him to sleep…to get some more rest and he felt himself obliging it. But he realized that Dysune hadn’t answered his question and wondered if something was wrong…

As Dysune’s face swirled around and faded to darkness, Tycho could hear the nagging voice in his head whisper something like a mantra.

### Lusankya…

### Lusankya…

### Lusankya…

* * *

### Lusankya…

Winter started slightly, her eyes popping open in surprise as she stared for a few seconds, unseen into the darkness that was her temporary quarters. For a second she wondered where she was until she remembered that she was on a mission…on Courscant…tracking down Soontir Fel’s wife, Wynssa Starflare. Though not many people knew, she was one of the few people to know that the famous actress Starflare was Wedge Antilles’ older sister, Syal.

And she intended for the secret to stay that way. Of all of Cracken’s agents here on Courscant, she was the only one who knew Starflare’s true identity. Not even her partner, in the guise of Ella Westerly, knew the truth.

She had been given this assignment after Kapp relayed some information to her during the night of the dinner held by Rogue Squadron. She left two days later for Courscant.

There Ella met her and they coordinated information regarding Fel’s wife and the general news about the population mood of the planet they had ferreted out. Winter’s cover was that was a secretary to one of the highest business administrators. A socialite, her cover was keen to talk to journalists at times, but never gave out any incriminating evidence against her employers. As Miss Wynne Scarisa she was a secretary that knew all, but told rarely.

She rolled off from her bed in the small apartment that was cozy and near the mid-upper levels of the citywide planet, and glided over to the refresher station. Not bothering to close the door behind her, as she was the apartment’s only occupant, she splashed some cool water over her face and stared at the stony reflection of herself in the mirror.

Her short white hair was gone, covered up by a tight fashionable dirty-blonde wig that fell in tresses down to her shoulders. Right now it was matted and frayed in different places as sleeping normally did to thick hair. She brushed a lock of dirty-blonde hair away and sighed softly.

Along with the reports and rumors about Ms. Starflare, there were reports of Lusankya agents erupting all over the place. Winter knew that this had to be an after effect of the chaos that had erupted around Ciutric concerning the death of Sate Pestage and the rise of power to Admiral Krennel. Of course only the agents created by Ysanne Isard, Iceheart, would dare show their faces to reclaim order around the Empire and the Imperial capital of Courscant…but those rumors were also enough to bring shivers in Winter’s mind.

She fervently hoped that Tycho’s mission, wherever it was, did not take him remotely near the Imperial capital. This was a dangerous place to be in. Already, she had been at Courscant for the last month and a few days and just roughly three weeks ago, received a report from Ella that one of their agents had been captured by Imperial forces.

Apparently the code that they had tried to clear didn’t work out, alerting the Imps to the agent’s position and place. They had tried to find out what had happened to the agent, but nothing came back and Winter knew that after a week of searching the agent would probably never be found.

Blinking, Winter looked at her tired expression for the last time and then headed out of the refresher. She glanced at the bed that she had occupied a few minutes ago and decided that sleep wasn’t going to be coming to her easily. Something was bothering her…and she really didn’t know what. _Focus Winter…focus…_

_She sat down at the desk that was in her room and switched on the holo-pad, letting the briefs and reports that her boss gave her fill the air above the desk. As Wynne Scarisa, there was a lot of work to be done and she had to hold these over from last night because of a few emergency reports that she had to tag and file away for her boss. Someone in the company expressed high interest in defecting to the New Republic, or Rebel Alliance as they still called it in the Imperial Center, and her boss felt that he needed to shut the worker up._

As security teams were heading up to detain the worker, she had discreetly typed a message to Ella saying to rescue the worker from certain death and to put him to good use for the New Republic. She didn’t know the outcome of the mission, but then again, it wasn’t her problem anymore.

Another click on the holopad and she brought out the recent report she had been typing. Halfway done, she only needed a few more paragraphs before the thing was completed. Her eyes scanned the files that were appropriate for the report, but Winter didn’t need to see the files. With her holographic memory, she knew everything to finish the report, but she did it in case someone was watching her in her apartment.

As she began typing away, her thoughts wandered and she wasn’t surprised as her thoughts focused on Tycho. She wondered if his mission was completed already… She had figured out he was sent on a mission a week into her placement into Courscant, but didn’t know the nature of it. She guessed it from the way he acted back before she left on her mission. He wasn’t usually stressed so badly after a mission, though the attacks in the Tion Cluster were great enough to render some pilots into a state of restlessness; she knew that Tycho would be strong and weather it out.

She wondered if he was back with Rogue Squadron, or maybe the whole of Rogue Squadron had been assigned to the mission, she didn’t really know the details, and what was he doing right now. Was he on a short reprieve? Resting and thinking of her? Thinking of his lost family on Alderaan?

During the too few times they had with each other they spent it talking about their lost homeplanet and also about what was in the present and now. They had only made love twice for all the times they were together, but each one was as passionate as if they weren’t going to be with each other forever. They never talked of the future for the fear that one day; one of them won’t be there to support the other…

Winter wiped her eyes as the holo-projection blurred. She looked in wonderment at the tears that were on her hand. Why was she crying? She didn’t cry…at least only twice had she cried…tears for Alderaan and tears for almost losing her love…

She stopped her typing and stared at her hands… Why at this time did she feel unease for Tycho? She glanced out into the planet’s night skyline… _Tycho…can you hear me?_

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

*Cackles evilly* So love torturing peeps in their minds and stuff. Wait till the next few chapters…things are gonna get worse. Hee hee… Shadow Chaser signing off…4/21/03. I would like to thank Cathy Rowsell for supporting me in this fic. I would also like to thank all those who reviewed! I am so on a writing streak! ^_^x

 

# Chapter 7

 

Tycho could feel that he was drifting in and out of consciousness again. He could hear voices murmuring near him, but at times they were loud, then soft, then loud again. But some of the times, when he could hear, there were barely any voices at all. It was then that he could hear a loud rumbling sound…something that sounded like a drill or a generator. Was the place he was in near a generator of sorts?

_Tycho…can you hear me?_

The gentle voice of a woman startled him to wakefulness and he blinked opened his eyes. The voice that spoke in his head, its soothing words and hopeful tone was familiar to him…had he heard it somewhere before? He faintly wondered if he was hallucinating the voice, but shook it off as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. As he rose, a wave of dizziness disoriented him badly and he swayed slightly before he had to close his eyes. Not even flying in an X-wing or A-wing was this bad…

He wasn’t normally inclined to get vertigo, but it certainly felt like it. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again and this time, the dizziness wasn’t bad anymore. He knew that he was injured, fairly severely, but he didn’t know to what extent. He scanned his dim surroundings with his eyes, searching for the person who spoke to him. Maybe it was a Jedi of sorts…he didn’t really know…

“Ah…you’re awake,” a grizzled voice spoke to his right and he turned his head slightly, feeling a pounding pain start up in his temples and extend to the back of his head. “Here now,” the old man who was speaking to him smiled slightly and gently pushed him back to the ground, “you shouldn’t be getting up, you’re not well.”

Tycho vaguely remembered the man and apparently the old man noticed his confusion and gave him another small smile, “Jan, at your service. I take care of all the prisoners here…”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he could feel that his throat was parched and dry… Jan seemed to know everything as he brought out a cup and placed it to his lips. The trickle of water that touched and his lips and drained through his teeth was an explosion of hungry desire to have more. He sucked more of the water at a rapid pace, not caring for its acrid and sour flavor and just swallowed. He didn’t care if the water was potential contaminated…he just needed liquids in him.

All too soon, the water in the cup was drained and Tycho found himself wanting more, but the look Jan gave him told him that there was probably no more.

“Sorry son…we can’t have you throwing up whatever nutrients you still have left in your body…you’ll get sicker,” Jan apologized and placed the cup out of his sight but then turned back and placed a weathered, wrinkly, dusty hand on his forehead. “Good…” Jan murmured, “no temperature.”

“Thank…” Tycho was glad for the water as it eased the dry hurting feeling in his throat, “you…”

“Hmph…no need to thank me, son,” Jan replied with a hint of bashfulness as he removed his hand, “so…how do you feel?”

“Plunged into the deep maws of the Sithpit,” Tycho replied slowly, clearing his throat to get some more moisture in it, “achy…hurting all over…what happened?” He knew that he had to have been captured by either Imperials or bounty hunters, though he put more emphasis on the former than latter, after his mission on… His memory fogged…where was he before his capture? Oh…yes…that was it, Courscant. He had been to Courscant…to…gather data…for the New Republic’s…possibility of…an assault on the citywide planet. As Tycho kept thinking, he found that his memories were coming back easily, but he realized that a part of it, from his capture to now…he barely remembered anything at all. All he got were flashes of images…feelings…nothing more…

“My guess…you were tortured by the Imps,” Jan shrugged, “though I must say…this is probably the worst case I’ve seen for a long time…”

“You…been here long?” Tycho asked.

“Yep…around…six years, give or take a few months…” Jan replied and Tycho stared at him. Jan was a prisoner for six years?! And still managed to survive?! “Oh, wipe that look off of you, son…it doesn’t suit you, and you don’t have to be so surprised. I have an excellent internal clock and stayed alive for this long because of my wits.”

“Sorry…” he whispered, forcing himself not to stare incredulously at Jan.

“Nah…its okay, son. Did you base fall to those Imp forces?” Jan asked.

Tycho shook his head as much as he allowed himself to without making himself dizzy again, “No…was gathering Intel for the New Republic…” he didn’t dare go into the specifics for the fear that Jan wasn’t who he was, a caring old man, and for the possibility that wherever he was, the room was bugged.

“Oh,” Jan shrugged and didn’t press further.

“Jan…where is this?” he asked.

“You’re in what the Empire deems its greatest creation. A woman named Ysanne Isard, or Iceheart, as all knows her, runs it. Nasty place this is…” Jan shook his head, “you’re lucky to be alive. It’s hell on the Universe…”

“Does this place have a name?” he asked.

“Yeah…Lu-“

Whatever Jan was about to say, was cut off as the door diagonally across from where Tycho laid, opened with a hiss and at least four stormtroopers walked in, blasters drawn and pointed at the other inmates of the massive cell. Their glaring white armor was enough to make him wince in pain at the bright shine it gave off.

Another two followed behind, but they weren’t armed with blasters and he dimly noted that they seemed to be making their way towards him. Beyond all of them an officer waited, his face obscured by his brim cap, pulled down to shield his eyes from whatever light was given off in this room.

“Hurry up,” the officer’s nasal voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Tycho couldn’t really place the face or if so, the person’s name, but he did note that the officer’s voice was clipped, precise, and had an accent that sounded Coreward. “It’s bad enough in here with these scum…just get him and let’s go…”

The troopers made their way around the various inhabitants of the cell, sometimes kicking over a few or roughly nudging them away. Tycho was distantly aware that most of the other inhabitants had shied away from the troopers, all crawling towards the sides and corners of the room, but for some of those who were either asleep or too sick to move, they were pushed away by the troopers.

“Don’t submit to them…don’t let them beat you…” Jan suddenly whispered urgently in his ear.

“Wha?” Tycho was still a bit foggy-minded.

“They’re coming for you…to torture you again. I do not know if Dysune or I could heal you after this…you’re already badly injured… Don’t submit to them, kid, don’t give in…” Jan repeated before there was a scraping sound and he twisted his head to see the old man dart over a pile of junk parts and rocks, and hide behind a particularly large stalagmite.

“There he is…get him,” one of the metallic-like voices of a stormtrooper made Tycho turn his head again and he saw the four blaster-toting troopers point their weapons at him while the two unarmed ones went ahead of them. Moments later, two pairs of strong arms clamped onto his upper arms, squeezing like vises and making Tycho cry out slightly against the pain.

He was hauled to his feet so suddenly that the dizziness that passed over him made him see dark and light spots in his vision. His stomach did a flip-flop and he nearly heaved whatever water and bodily fluids he had in him up, but managed to keep it down. His legs felt like jelly and he sagged into the weight of the arms holding him up, but that only made the vise-like grip tighten more, eliciting another cry of pain out of him.

“Move it Rebel scum,” one trooper sneered and he was jerked along. He tried to move his legs, but they didn’t seem to respond and as a result his feet bumped into several junk parts and stalagmites on the ground, but he felt the acute pain lashing against his legs.

He had to escape…he didn’t want to be tortured again. Gathering whatever strength he had in, him, Tycho closed his eyes for a moment, trying to prepare himself. Now…he had to do it now! Suddenly he twisted his body around, trying to wrench the vise-like grips of his captors. He felt his muscles contract and pull and it hurt…but he didn’t break the grips of the stormtroopers.

“Hey…this one’s struggling…” one of his captors’ voices spoke up and Tycho tried vainly to pull out of their grip while glaring as well as he could in his condition, at the white helmets…

“Whatever,” another of his captors replied and Tycho only saw the butt of a blaster smash into his face, his vision exploding into a myriad of colors before darkness claimed him once more. He dropped limply into his two captors arms, fresh crimson blood running down a cut above his eyebrow before they dragged him out, leaving the other prisoners to watch with relief and a hint of curiosity at the unconscious prisoner.

“Jan…” Dysune crawled over to the old man who had been hiding behind a large stalagmite, “do you think he’ll survive this round?”

“That I do not know, Dysune,” Jan replied a bit sadly.

“Will he break?”

“No,” Jan’s firm reply made Dysune wonder about the vehemence in his voice, “he won’t break. I’ve seen fire in that boy’s eyes…fire fueled by his devotion to the Alliance…”

“Like your devotion?” Dysune asked.

“Yes,” Jan replied, one of his fists raised and clenched together, “if anything…Tycho Celchu is a loyal son of both Alderaan and of the Rebel Alliance… He won’t break.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

* * *

Tycho could hear a distant humming noise…and for once, it sounded soothing to his ears. He could also hear a distant but incessant beeping noise and a foggy part of his mind told him to continue his trek towards consciousness. He awoke slowly, opening his eyes…

White fluorescent ceiling lights greeted his vision and he stared at it, confused. He looked around, turning his head slowly as not to dizzy himself, and blinked, surprised. When did he get into a medical bay? Especially the medical bay of what looked to be _Home One_ or the medical frigate _Redemption_? He suspected that he was on _Home One_ as it had the ethereal feel of a Mon Cal ship…everything was almost bubble or spherical-like.

He remembered…bits and pieces of something…a flash of…

_Tycho suddenly was knocked forward as a gigantic wave of crackling blue electricity slammed into him from behind, knocking out all his systems._

“ _Wait, you want Rogue Squadron to do this mission?”_

“I asked you two to be here because this mission which I am going to be assigning is highly dangerous and heavily classified…”

The memories came at such a rapid pace that Tycho nearly buried his face into his pillow he was resting on and let out a small groan of pain. _Stop it…stop it…_ he mentally tried to block the memories and little by little, they subsided, until he thought of nothing and just stared around the medical bay.

He wondered if anyone could tell him what happened and how he got here… He tried moving his fingers and found that he could, but his muscles were very weak and weren’t used to him clenching and unclenching them.

The door to his medical room opened and a two-onebee droid shuffled through, walking towards him. The droid stopped by his bedside and peered at the equipment he was hooked up to. Tycho realized that the incessant beeping noise was a pulse monitor and all of his vitals were being printed out in a machine at probably a half-hour to an hour interval.

“How are you feeling Captain?” the Onebee droid asked in a friendly manner, his robotic arm extended towards his face, a cup with a straw in it and Tycho sipped gratefully, sloshing the water around before swallowing.

“Better…” he replied slowly, “where am I?”

“On board _Home One_ , Captain…the _Redemption_ was too far away for your grievous injuries…”

“Injuries?” Tycho blinked.

“Yes, sir…you suffered injuries in your battle and had to be immediately transported to a ship. You were placed in a bacta tank for six hour intervals,” the Onebee replied and Tycho had a flash of watching someone outside a bacta tank, but quickly shrugged it off.

“Oh…” he replied, “how long was I out?”

“About a few days, sir,” the Onebee replied, “please do not make any attempt to get up, Captain. I have strict orders from the Commander and the Admiral not to allow you to get up.”

Wedge and Admiral Ackbar had ordered the Onebee not to allow him to move? He looked around, hoping to catch any sign that Wedge or his squadron-mates were here…but there was no evidence of anything, not even cards or a datapad with a message on it saying to him that they had been here. He sighed softly in disappointment…but then got an idea.

“Did they come here?” he asked hopeful.

“Yes sir, but they left after a while. I have yet to see them appear again and I cannot allow too many visitors that would disrupt your healing process,” the Onebee droid replied firmly.

“Oh…” Tycho looked a bit disappointed, but he was glad that Wedge, even Admiral Ackbar had stopped by. Maybe the droid wouldn’t knock him out and Wedge would come in… _Fat chance, Celchu…doctors, especially droid-doctors always knock you out to ‘keep the healing process going’, as they’re so fond of saying_ , he reminded himself.

“I shall leave you now, Captain,” the Onebee droid replied a bit stiffly, “please do get some rest, sir.”

Making one last check at the monitors around him Tycho watched as the droid wheeled out, marking and checking notes on a datapad that he had in his hands. The door hissed close behind him, plunging the room back into its relative silence, save for the humming noise of the equipment and the monotonous beeping of the pulse monitor.

Tycho leaned back against his pillows, furrowing slightly as he got comfortable. He wondered how did the mission go, but he was sort of foggy on the exact details of the mission. Maybe his injuries did leave him with slight amnesia…he had known that to happen, especially to Hobbie, who had a notorious streak of ending up in the bacta tank for about 50% of their missions.

As he settled in to sleep again, the door to his room opened once more and Tycho sat up in surprise, not caring if a wave of dizziness rolled over him. He shunted it away and stared at the person in the doorway.

“Winter?!”

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

MAWAHAHAHAHAH!!! *Cackles gleefully* So loving it… Hee hee… Having fun yet? Torture abound! Okay…nuff said…more writing!

 

# Chapter 8

 

_As he settled in to sleep again, the door to his room opened once more and Tycho sat up in surprise, not caring if a wave of dizziness rolled over him. He shunted it away and stared at the person in the doorway._

“ _Winter?!”_

* * *

Tycho blinked, completely caught off guard at the appearance of the person he would least expect to see. Last time he had heard…Winter had a secret mission or something before he and Rogue Squadron shipped out… Or did she have a mission? He wondered mostly to himself…the memories were still fuzzy prior and during the battle, but he knew that as time went on, he would probably regain them.

“I…thought you were on a mission?” he asked, his tone full of question and uncertainty.

“I was…it’s done now…” Winter came in with her lithe grace and poise and sat down in a vacated chair next to his bedside. Tycho wondered for a split second if the Onebee droid knew she was in here, but all of his thoughts melted away as she drew him towards her and gave him a kiss full on the lips.

He drank in her sweet taste, letting his mouth explore hers as he closed his eyes. With a sharp pang in his chest, he realized how much he had missed, her, his mission or her mission be damned. They held the kiss for a long moment until both had to part to break for air.

Tycho braced weakly against his bedside, cursing his weakened muscles for not being strong enough to hold her face to his, to look into her deep green eyes and unable to caress her shoulder length snow-white hair.

“That was for scaring me with your little escapade in the battle,” she said softly, a bit huskily, and smiled at him before sitting back slightly, twirling a small strand of her hair in between her long fingers.

“Sorry,” Tycho grinned slightly, leaning back against his pillows once more, letting its cool touch wash across his burning cheeks from the kiss as he leaned on his side and stared at her. Gods she looked so beautiful…even more radiant than she had been the last time he saw her…at the promotion party Wedge had held…how many nights was it ago?

“You’re recovering nicely since I’ve been here last night,” she stopped twirling her hair and rested her chin on a cup made by her hands, her elbows rested on her knees. “Any ill effects?”

“I feel weak…like I can’t lift anything,” Tycho confessed, giving her a small smile, “I guess I’ve been out for a long time…”

“Too long, Tycho,” Winter replied softly, “you were unconscious for about a week and half since you were placed in an immediate bacta solution…”

“A week…and half?” Tycho stared at her, surprised.

Winter nodded, her lips down turned in a sad frown, “Wedge and the others were worried about you…and I…” her voice hitched for a second, “I…almost thought you died…”

“Oh…” Tycho didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t want her anguished expression to linger on her lovely face so he decided to change the subject…getting away from his near-death experience, which he couldn’t remember, but could some how feel phantom effects of it. It must have been one hell of a battle; he downcast his eyes in thought…where was it anyways… “Winter…where was the battle?”

“The Onebee and Mon Cal doctors told me you might experience some memory loss…” Winter frowned slightly, “but the battle took place in the Tion Cluster…where Rogue Squadron had been patrolling since the disaster with Sate Pestage on Ciutric.”

“Yeah…I think…I remember a few things,” Tycho furrowed his brow and remembered that Wedge had said something about the New Republic assigning Rogue Squadron to patrol the Tion Cluster borders because of a few Imp uprisings that were happenings there…

“…You will take Rogue Squadron to meet with the Dreadnaught New Hope who is located in the Milagro System…”

The sudden burst of a ruddery voice jolted Tycho out of his thoughts and he blinked rapidly. Where in the name of the Sith had that thought come from? He could faintly remember Admiral Ackbar giving him and Wedge those orders…or where they from his surface thoughts? He knew that a few people had a tendency to mix up surface thoughts and subconscious thoughts during times of stress…and to say…he was under a lot of stress recently…

“Tycho?” Winter placed a hand on his, bringing him out of his thoughts, “you okay?”

“Uh…” Tycho tried to raise and arm to scratch the back of his head, but found it heavy and nearly unmovable, so he settled for shrugging, “yeah…I’m…okay… Winter?”

“Yes?”

“ _I just got a flash…” the more he thought about the sudden flash of the memory, the more absurd it seemed to him. He had to be under a lot of stress to be imagining Admiral Ackbar’s voice talking about another Rogue Squadron mission when they were still patrolling the Tion Cluster. “Never mind…”_

“What is it, love?” Winter looked at him, concerned.

“Nothing,” Tycho shook his head, giving her a smile, “don’t worry. I was just having delusions of grandeur…just imagining Admiral Ackbar talking to me…” He laughed lightly, trying to alleviate the tension.

“Tycho…” Winter was now even more concerned, “if you’re starting to hallucinate Ackbar’s voice or even anything else…you have to tell the doctors…it might be an after effect of your injuries…”

“No…don’t worry, I feel fine. It’s just that I’ve been under a lot of stress recently, you know…with all these recent battles and such things,” Tycho shrugged. Now that he thought about it more…stress was eating away at him. He had been in and out of countless battles ever since his mission to Clipar…and they rarely got any downtime in between all of that. The only lucky thing was for three of his squad-mates, Plourr, Hobbie, and Wes to get some time and visit Corellia in between all of the battles.

“Yes…you have been,” Winter noted, a hint of amusement in her voice as her lips curved into a smile, “we all have…”

Tycho nodded and tried to give her hand resting on his a gentle squeeze, as much as his weakened, but healing muscles would allow him to, “Do you remember that little joyride in the Y-wing on Axxila?”

Winter laughed, a joyous sound to his ears. “Yes…all too well! Perhaps during your next downtime, we should spend some time together in the cockpit of a Y-wing once more…except this time, no shooting at pirates or Imps flyboy.”

“Yes, milady Dame Winter,” he teased her gently.

There was silence after he said the comment but Tycho didn’t mind it as he kept staring at her, his eyes tracing her beautiful chiseled face…the curves of her lips. He could feel a small force of hunger creep up on him…a hunger that he knew all too well. He had missed her terribly during his missions in the Tion Cluster, and now, with his near-death experience and fuzzy memories, he knew that she was the only stable anchor he could hold on to, one of the two people that understood him so well to be able to comfort him in different ways. Winter gave her love and devotion to him; Wedge gave his friendship and loyalty to him.

He didn’t know what he would do without them…

“I missed you, you know?” he whispered to her as she smiled gently.

“Don’t worry…I’m here now,” Winter replied softly as she leaned down and captured his lips in hers. Tycho kissed with a passion that he had long forgotten, his mouth working over hers. He traced her face with his kisses, exploring her skin and its delicate curves and enticing a soft moan of pleasure from her. In his mind, he curse silently for the lack of muscle power or else he would have held her close to him.

He continued his path towards her ears, nipping the lobe gently before she pulled away slightly, her face flushed, but a brilliant smile on her face. He could feel his lips pulling at the corners as he smiled also.

Suddenly, the door to his room opened with a soft hiss and the onebee droid that had been taking care of him came in

“Can you stay, longer?” he asked, feeling a deep pain cut through him as he didn’t want to part with her.

“Visiting hours are over, Miss Winter,” the droid said in a clipped voice.

“I know,” Winter replied to the droid before turning back to Tycho a longing in her eyes, “I wish I could stay…but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

Tycho was very reluctant to let his love go and on sudden impulse summoned strength into his weakened muscles and pulled her down towards him again, barely noticing the startled fleeting expression of surprise and fear, appear on her face before he kissed her hard. He could feel her response as her mouth worked with his, and he relaxed slightly before she pulled away slowly, her breath coming in slight gasps.

“Now, I know what to expect flyboy,” she whispered to him wirily before standing up and backing away slowly, her hand lingering on his.

“Be back soon?”

“Soon, love…soon,” Winter replied before walking out, only taking a moment to stare back at him before going out of the door. When the door hissed close behind her, Tycho sighed roughly and leaned back against his pillows, a content expression on his face.

It was good seeing Winter again, especially with his fuzzy memory. He missed her terribly and desperately wanted her presence near him. “So…you going to knock me out doc?”

The droid only looked at him curiously before picking up his arm and injecting a needle into it. “You need your rest sir…” the droid’s outline quickly became fuzzy and everything seemed to slide at an angle before blackness appeared in Tycho’s vision. He could feel his eyelids droop close on their own accord…rest…seemed like a good idea. Yes, rest was a good idea…

* * *

Outside of the medical ward that housed Tycho Celchu, Winter snorted derisively and ran a hand through her cropped white hair. She hadn’t wanted to get it cut…she liked her white hair long. It was only on the orders of Ysanne Isard that she cut her hair to prepare for her current role.

“Well?” Iceheart’s deep voice brought her gaze around to rest on the blue-red eyes of her employer.

“He’s completely out of it,” she replied, “he doesn’t even suspect that he’s still at Lusankya. Your drugs certainly did their job.”

“I know…I tested them on General Carvin before. What’s your assessment Grania?” Iceheart asked, a black eyebrow raised.

The woman who looked like a carbon copy of Winter, Princess Leia Organa’s most trusted aid, smirked, but it wasn’t the smirk of a Rebel infiltrator. This was the smirk of a predator who had neatly caught its prey. Grania laughed lowly, changing her voice from a lilting smooth talk to a slightly rougher deeper one, “Tycho Celchu will be mine. And he will turn to us.”

“Good. See to it that he does or else it will be your head next,” Iceheart replied coldly before turning around and walking away, her booted heels clicking on the metallic floors of the installation known as Lusankya.

Grania watched as her employer walked away before turning back to stare at the door she had just exited a few moments ago. Her hand touched her lips unconsciously…as she licked it. For whatever it was worth, Celchu certainly was a passionate kisser when he was given the right incentive. She wondered if she could use that…perhaps maybe turn her job into a pleasurable one in the process. Yes…that would be perfect. She didn’t have to linger like a plaything as her previous assignment to be Admiral Isoto’s unwilling mistress had disgusted her to no end.

Tycho Celchu, the Alderaanian would become her plaything and she would be in control of his fate. Let Iceheart have her fun…it would be her who had the ultimate say in the Rebel’s life.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

*Cackles evilly*. Hee hee…this is such a torture chapter. Sorry it’s so short. I wanna get to the next part. ^_^

 

Chapter 9

His limbs felt heavy, and his eyelids felt like sandpaper…but that was all part of the healing process, Tycho told himself as he struggled to open his eyes.  He saw the faint blurry forms of the medical ward he was in…still white…still full of medical equipment.  Finally getting his eyes opened and working, he noticed that no one was in here and the steady pulse monitor was beeping away in a rhythmic pattern.  By the way his body felt, it was a good night’s rest, but something nagged in his brain that told him otherwise.  It had to be a day, right?  Maybe he would ask the medical Two-Onebee when it came in to check on him.

As he let his eyes roam about, he caught something to his left where a small table had been situated next to his bed and found that an indigo vase had been put there, along with some flowers.  A card had been set up next to the flowers, and Tycho could read the slightly messy script that was his commander’s.  _Wedge, you and the others…_ he thought to himself as he smiled at the card.

As he turned his gaze from the flowers and the card, the door to his room hissed opened and the Two-Onebee that had been taking care of him shuffled in.

“Good day to you Captain Celchu,” the Onebee said in a pleasant tone before marking few things off on a datapad he had.  “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I can’t really move…my limbs feel heavy,” he replied, after clearing his throat slightly from the dryness.  “Did I really sleep for a day?”

“Yes sir,” the Onebee replied, “feeling will return to your limbs.  Until then, please do not attempt to move them – you will gravely injure yourself.”

“But what if I had to defend myself,” the words just suddenly came tumbling out and Tycho blinked in surprise before closing his mouth.  Where in the Sith had that come from?  Why did he say that?

He winced as a lancing pain speared through his head, followed by a murky image…almost as if he was in a bacta tank or dunked into an incredibly dense swamp.

The Onebee tilted its head slightly, mimicking confusion.  “I do not know why you would need to defend yourself Captain.  You are aboard Home One in a secure medical ward.”

The Onebee shuffled forward and rechecked a few of his IV packets and made some notes before turning to face him.  “Please relax Captain.  I can assure you, nothing will happen.  You do not need to fear any attack of sorts.”

Tycho nodded numbly, still reeling over what he had said before.  He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely heard the Onebee’s next question.  “Huh?  What did you say?”

“There is a visitor by the name of Winter waiting outside.  Would you like me to admit her in?” the Onebee repeated in its usual patient tone.

“Um…sure,” Tycho replied and the droid inclined its head before shuffling out.

A few seconds later, Winter appeared a smile on her face and walked towards him, sitting down next to him.  “Feeling better this morning?” she asked, tracing a part of his forehead and Tycho nodded as much as his limp body would allow him to.

“Much better now that you’re here,” he said and she blushed slightly.

“Flyboy flirt,” she teased him before kissing him gently on the lips.  In the midst of the kiss, he grinned and captured her lips with his own, lifting his head slightly as not to end the kiss.  Drinking her sweet taste in, he finally let her go and she hovered only centimeters away from his face.

“You did miss me,” she whispered in a breathy voice.

“More than ever,” he replied equally soft.

“Hmm,” she pulled back and gestured to his left, “Did you see the flowers?”

“Yeah…the others came at night?” he asked, looking at the flowers once more.  He suspected that Wedge and a few of the other Rogues, after visiting hours, sneaked in and placed flowers.  They had to have been real busy if they couldn’t come during visiting hours.

“No, this morning, just before the regular visiting hours.  They said they’ll try to get out of simulators early, but Admiral Ackbar wants them to prep for another mission soon.  He says that General Skywalker needs reinforcements,” Winter replied and Tycho nodded.

“When did the Admiral say they were leaving?” he asked.

“I think in a couple of days.  It’s a hasty mission, but Skywalker reported in that he needed additional forces,” she said, looking a bit thoughtful.

Tycho frowned.  That was odd.  It wasn’t really like Luke to ask for more forces and besides, his former commanding officer was a Jedi and pulled a lot of miracles during the skirmishes they were in.  But if Luke was to ask for more reinforcements then things were probably going badly.  “Is it just the Rogues?”

“No, Champion and a few of the newer squadrons are going too,” Winter replied.

“Oh,” he blinked a few times, collecting his thoughts, “Winter?  Where are they going?”

“The Milagro system,” Winter replied, “but I don’t think…”

The rest of her words were drowned in a roar that had filled his ears.  He didn’t know where the roar came from, but it sounded like the Wuthio Tri-falls thundering right in back of him and pain started to explode in little bits around his head, growing stronger by the second.  He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of pain…why was this happening to him?!

“ _There is also another assignment Commander Antilles,” Ackbar spoke up, “while Captain Celchu is on his mission…you will take Rogue Squadron to meet with the Dreadnaught New Hope who is located in the Milagro System. Commander Skywalker will be there…_

What the…?!

Unable to stand so much pain, Tycho began to concentrate on forcing the pain away, piecing it one by one into a place where he was trying to get it under control.  It was those memories, those foreign unrelated memories that were hurting his head!  Why did he have so many of these flashes?

He was dimly aware of Winter saying his name with concern, her hand resting on his chest as he struggled to contain his memories, his hands clenching into fists as his eyes squeezed shut from the pain.

Just as suddenly, the pain lessened and he forced his eyes open, his breathing labored and he felt exhausted.  What in the name of the Sith was that?!  Gulping air, he steadied his breathing and heart and turned slightly to where Winter had a pensive look on her normally beautiful face.

“What…”

“I…don’t know…how long…”

“It was only for a few seconds, but…you had me worried,” she said, before she whispered, “Please don’t do that again…”

Tycho was inwardly surprised that he was able to move his arms now and placed a hand on top of hers, before sliding her hand underneath his covers, her hand now sandwiched between his chest and his left hand.  Her hand felt cool to the touch, but it was soft and reassuring.

“Your heart’s racing,” she commented softly, “do you want me to call the Onebee?”

“No,” he replied, “not now…I…I just want you here for now.”

“Okay…”

But even as they sat in silence, Tycho couldn’t help but feel something was terribly wrong…something that would cost him more than his life.  And it had to do with what just happened.

                                                                               

In an observation room hidden from the eyes of Tycho Celchu, Ysanne Isard watched with a malevolent smile on her face.  Grania had nearly screwed up, but luckily the programming they forced into the bratty little Alderaanian had worked almost flawlessly.  Only a little more and then they would release Tycho back into the hands of the Rebel Alliance – her own little custom made time bomb, just waiting to explode.

She would have to teach Grania a lesson later, but for now, just watching Celchu perform his best as her puppet was entertaining enough.  The hiss of the door to the observation room opened and snapped shut, but Isard didn’t look up and instead waited for the person to speak.

“Director, we’ve found the whereabouts of spies.  Should I have a bombing run arranged?” the voice of her loyal captain, Falco Avin asked.

“No,” Isard replied, still staring through the window, “they will have beforehand knowledge if a bombing run is to be arranged.  Have your top assassins infiltrate and take them out.  I will not accept failures.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Avin replied and the door hissed opened again as he stepped out.

Basking in the silence once more, Isard let a small smile form on her face.  With Sate Pestage gone, Admiral Krennel in his little hole on that Sith-forsaken planet she didn’t even want to know the name of, Courscant and effectively the core of the Empire was at her control.  She had heard recent rumors that the Rebel Alliance was going to try to make bids to invade the Coreworlds, but even if they did, they would never have the Imperial Center intact even if they did manage to conquer it.

No…her own little pet projects on the side were going to determine to give that pathetic Alliance a run for their own money.  She was in control, and she would be the ultimate puppet master – and right here below her was one of her greatest puppets, almost complete.

                                                                               

It was late at night and Winter had left early in the afternoon.  Tycho felt very well rested, but even so, the Onebee insisted that he get some sleep at night to continue the healing process and promptly knocked him out with some medication.  He dreamt a strange dream…but not as strange as he realized it was a memory…

The Wuthio Tri-falls were one of Alderaan’s most heralded tourist places.  No vehicles of any kind were allowed; instead specialized hydrogen-fueled shuttles brought people from the nearby cities and dropped them off at the falls.  There were a few lodges at the Tri-falls to allow tourists to stay, but many of them were a bit on the high expensive side.

But for the Celchu family, money wasn’t an issue.  Novacom owned a cabin out near the lodges.  A few days before Tycho was to leave for the Imperial Academy at Prefsbelt IV, the whole family decided to take a quick vacation to the Tri-falls.

Taking a deep breath, he smelled the mistiness and wetness of the falls, some of the spray hitting his face as he stood at a platform facing the three falls.  It was a fairly warm summer day, but the falls made it seem cooler.

“Tycho!” the energetic voice of his younger sister Mia startled him and made him turn around to see her in her light blue dress running towards him, her long brown hair a disarray behind her.  She launched herself into his arms and he nearly toppled over, his back hitting the wooden guardrail a bit painfully, as she hugged him tightly before releasing him.

Mia was always so full of energy, he reflected as he grinned at her.  “Hey Mia.”

“Mom says that lunch is almost ready!” Mia grinned, “You’d better get back before Skoloc eats everything.  You know him.”

“Yeah,” Tycho laughed, knowing that his younger brother, only the sprightly age of nine, ate everything in his path, yet did not even seem to gain weight.  Mia was already a beautiful thirteen year old and one of the smartest in her class.  She was destined to be a benevolent politician, he could see that.

Mia tugged at him to come, but he shook his head, “I’ll be coming in a few seconds, okay?”  He noticed Nyiestra coming towards him and apparently Mia noticed too, as she grinned at him knowingly before skipping back to where the family picnic was spread out.

“Don’t be late!  We’ll eat everything!” she called back.

“Hi Handsome,” Nyiestra greeted him with a quick kiss on the lips before wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close to her.  Tycho responded by doing the same and hugged her gently, breathing in her scent.  She always smelled of misty fields and hints of fire-flower blossoms.

They both stepped back after a few minutes and Tycho stared at her, a sudden ache in his heart as he realized the magnitude of him leaving for the academy in a few days.  He wouldn’t see her until he graduated in a couple of years and by then; he would be a lot older and more versed in the Imperial academic ways.  Of course he would send periodic messages to her and gifts whenever he had the time…but it wasn’t going to be the same.

He wouldn’t be able to hold her, kiss her, be with her…and he suddenly didn’t know if leaving for the academy was the right decision.  Did he want to leave her?  Was his urge to fly for the Imperial forces so strong, strong enough for him to leave her and his whole family behind?

“Don’t…you wanted so badly to go, don’t hesitate now,” Nyiestra suddenly spoke, as if reading his thoughts and mood.

Tycho blinked and stared down at her and she smiled wistfully up at him before holding up her hand, the twinkling Corsica gemstone ring glittering brightly in her hand.  A smile crept over his face and he kissed the ring and her hand before clasping it with his own.  It was the ring he gave her for their engagement.

“Remember, even if we’re parted, you and I are still going to be married, no matter what, okay?” she said.

“I know…but…”

“Tycho, don’t hesitate…live free,” Nyiestra said, and Tycho nodded before something about her words caught his attention.  Live free…?

“Live…free?”

Nyiestra smiled, “Yes.  You’re supposed to one of the best fighter pilots out there, don’t let them convert you.”

Okay…the conversation just got weirder, Tycho decided as he stared at Nyiestra with a tilted head and narrowed eyes.  He released her hand stepped back slightly.  What had gotten into his beloved?  “Ny?”

“The Tri-falls, aren’t they wonderful?” she suddenly gestured grandly, her arms spreading out, towards the falls.

It was as if a holo-projector fizzled and popped that Tycho suddenly found his vision swirling and fading, like snow thrown onto the projection or interference from a nearby jammer.  The Tri-falls fizzled for a second, and then returned to their splendor…

“Did you…?” he trailed off as a sudden image forced itself in his mind.

“ _What news?  What?”_

“ _Tycho…Alderaan was destroyed a few days ago because of the rebel forces that had taken the planet hostage.  Everyone on that planet was killed.  Grand Moff Tarkin had no choice…he pleaded with the rebels to stop using the planet as a hostage…”_

The symbol of the Imperial forces suddenly appeared, then melted as the image of the Rebel Alliance appeared.  It meshed into the Imperial symbol and Tycho had a sudden flash of image of a star field from the view of a TIE fighter cockpit.

He was shooting; at least that was what he thought.  He was shooting X-wings and A-wings painted with the symbol of the Rebel Alliance.

But how could he if he was still in the memory of him going to the Tri-falls?  What in the name of the Sith was going on?  What happened?  What…

Tycho forced open his eyes and stared up at the blank ceiling of the medical bay.  His heart raced as he realized that it was all just a dream.  Just a dream…  “It’s just a dream…” he whispered to himself, wincing as his voice sounded harsh in his ears.

“Hmmm?  A dream?” a soft feminine voice said by his side and Tycho’s eyes widened in shock as he turned and saw Winter, right next to him… _in_ his bed and completely naked.

“Winter?!” he said in a slightly startled and loud voice before she hushed.  “What…”

“I didn’t tell you earlier, because I wasn’t too sure…” she said in a husky voice that made certain parts of his body respond as one of her hands snaked across his waist, the other tracing circles around his chest.  “General Cracken is sending me out on a mission to the Coreworlds…and I don’t know if I’ll be coming back.”

She leaned in closer and caught his lips with her, kissing him fully and passionately.  Meanwhile, he felt for her hand draped across his waist and moved it slowly downwards.  Her fingers caught the strings of his pants and she played with them ever so slowly.  He groaned as she caused a myriad of sensations to overwhelm him.  It felt like a long time since they had sex together and his body needed it, he needed it.

He needed her, wanted her, and forced himself closer to her.  As one of his hands helped her undo his pants, his other hand cupped one of her breast and began to squeeze it gently and rhythmically.  She moaned in his mouth as he explored her face with kisses, tracing them up and down her face.  
            A part of his mind told him that they really shouldn’t do this, especially in the medical bay…cameras were watching them, but Tycho didn’t care as he drew her close to him, his body pressed against hers.  He let his kisses trace down her neck slowly, making her throw her head back as she whispered his name softly and urgently.

                                                                               

_On Courscant a Trandoshan approached a decrepit looking building in the lower levels of the city-wide planet.  He carried a fairly large pack on his back and hissed at anyone who looked at him in a funny way._

_Inside the building, Winter stared at the readouts of the latest findings on Wynssa Starflare.  There was nothing to indicate that the woman was even on the planet, much less anywhere else.  The woman most definitely knew how to disappear – especially from Isard and from them.  Even with their networks working, they couldn’t find a trace of the holo-actress._

“ _So?  What do the latest findings report?” her partner, still in the guise of Ella Westerly asked._

“ _Nothing.  Even Kapp’s having trouble tracking her down.  I think it’s sufficed to say that Starflare isn’t here on the planet anymore.  We’ll have to report back to Command about this.  Is there any word on the missing agent?”_

“ _No…sorry,” her partner replied shaking her head.  “I think its reason to say the Imps either got the agent or they killed themselves.”_

“ _Did Page contact you about-“_

_A sudden knock startled the two Intelligence agents and they looked at each other before looking at the door.  It was all they got to do before an explosion blew everything sky high._

                                                                               

Tycho knew all of her weak spots, points to make her aroused and he let his hands explore those points.  Running both his hands up and down her back, he hoped that she responded the same.  With her photographic memory, she would know which of his weak spots were...

_It’s wrong…_

_Why not?  It’s not like Winter and I never had sex before…_

_Something is wrong…_

Tycho decided to ignore the warnings in his head.

_She would never tell you mission specifics…she knows that confidentiality is the highest priority of an Intelligence agent._

_So, she was afraid of coming back._

_She would never tell you this.  Winter can handle herself; you know that as well as I do…_

_But then why?_

_Why don’t you ask her…?_

Tycho raised his head a few centimeters above hers and stopped his exploration of her body, making her look up at him in puzzlement.

“Tycho?” she asked in a breathless husky voice.

“This may sound stupid…but, why is Cracken sending you out right now?  I mean…”

She smiled, “Tycho, you should know, the Coreworlds are the stronghold of the Empire.  Cracken needs intelligence from there…  What are you so worried about?” She lifted her head up and kissed him gently on the lips.

He wanted to respond to her kiss, but something in his mind told him that this was wrong.  Something was definitely wrong…Winter didn’t usually act like this.  She wasn’t like one of the bar dancers who always made pilot’s last-night stands a dream…she…wasn’t…

He turned to his side and flopped onto the side of the bed, letting his arm hang over the edge.  His legs still felt very weak as if he couldn’t move it that well.  Sighing, he could see the frown on Winter’s face, but somehow even that felt wrong…there was something off about all of this…

Unbidden images of Winter suddenly flitted through his mind.  All of the missions they’ve worked together on…from the first time he met her and Wes thought of her as Princess Leia while he knew better than that…  Working to rescue Sate Pestage…even before that when they were captured by Leonia Tavira…

“ _If it wasn’t going to get us kicked out, I’d pick that blossom for you…”_

“ _He’s right, I’m not Princess Leia.  Dame Winter at your service…”_

“ _We’ll get out of here…somehow…”_

The niggling feeling that had been in the back of Tycho’s mind suddenly exploded into pain that made him squeeze his eyes shut and he forced out a pained gasp of surprise.  Images, so fast yet so familiar, flashed by his eyes and felt sick.

“Tycho!”

His head snapped up and he stared at Winter with wild eyes.  No…it wasn’t Winter…nothing of this was real…was it?  Her face began to flicker before his vision like the Tri-falls did in his dream.  Winter…?  No…maybe?

“Stay away!” he said in a rough tone as he grabbed the sides of his head, his fingernails digging small crescent moons into his scalp as he gritted his teeth against the onslaught of pain.  He tried to scramble backwards, but only ended up falling off of the medical bed in a painful heap.

But even that pain didn’t register in his mind as he felt like his head was going to explode from the nerves that were shooting off random synapses inside of his mind.  He curled up into a ball, trying to contain the pain as the images kept up their intensity.  Noises, sounding like garble from a shorted comm. system accompanied the images.

“Make it stop, make it stop; stop, stop, stop,” he whispered as another wave of pain made him whimper.  He barely noticed that he had crashed into a medical cart, spilling glass and vials all over himself as he pushed against the wall, trying for some comfort to make the pain, noises, and images stop.

_MAKE IT STOP!!_ He mentally screamed and just as if his wish had come true, everything stopped and Tycho opened his eyes slowly and blinked as he saw everything come to focus.

He looked up at the bed he had fallen out of and tilted his head.  Who was the woman who now clothed herself in the remnant of his blankets?  Winter…?  No…  “You’re…” his voice was hoarse, “not…Winter…”

Suddenly everything felt heavy as if all of his limbs suddenly went numb and it was an effort to keep his head up.

The woman who he had thought was Winter suddenly narrowed her eyes and then spoke in a deeper voice, confirming to him that she was not his beloved.  “Very perceptive Celchu.  You actually broke through the programming…but unfortunately, that will be your last act.”  She held up a comlink and pressed a button.

The doors to the medical room opened and Tycho saw the armor of stormtroopers march in along with another man that was very familiar in his mind.  He didn’t know why, but somehow he knew that he had met the man before…somewhere…

“ _Now…why such a harsh language?  Especially from a pet?  No, no…the Director will not like her pets with such language; but a trip through her ward and you’ll be fine…”_

“ _What…are you…talking about?”_

“ _My dear Captain Celchu…welcome to Lusankya.”_

Tycho’s eyes widened with sudden clarity as he knew that the officer who approached him had been the first one to tell him of where he was.  He was a prisoner of Lusankya!  This had to be a set up to get him to respond to imperial control…to make him an agent of Lusankya.

“Ahhh, I see your efforts failed Grania,” the officer sneered at the woman on the bed.

Grania sniffed, “You guys didn’t do much to him before giving him to me, Captain Avin.”

“Oh look, he knows who I am…” Captain Avin suddenly glanced down at Tycho before turning to the stormtroopers and snapped his fingers.  “Subdue him.”

The troopers moved in and the first blow by the butt of one of the trooper’s blasters caught Tycho across his face.  He felt his head snap to the side and tasted blood.  He tried lashing out, but his arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate.  The only thing that worked was his pain receptors and they felt every blow on him with bright clarity.

He refused to cry out or anything, but prayed to whatever gods existed in this universe that someone just knock him unconscious.  The blow finally came and Tycho fell blissfully into the blackness.

                                                                                         

**Author’s Notes:**

            Wow…almost a year since I wrote in this story.  Hmm…sorry people, again I apologize and hopefully I’ll be more consistent next time.

 

_Chapter 10_

 

The bar was musty and dank and it reeked of a certain odor that Winter did not care to know. She cradled a tumbler of lomin ale, occasionally sipping it. She didn’t really drink a lot, but to blend in this kind of crowd, one had to drink, or be noticed immediately. Surprisingly, her cropped white hair did not stand out as much as she had thought it would, noting that many of the patrons at the bar had wilder and more exotic hair colors than she did. Her partner, now out of her guise as Ella Westerly was nursing a Corellian whiskey, occasionally taking gulps instead of sips.

But Winter wasn’t worried about Iella Wessiri getting drunk. No, she knew that her partner drank responsibly, and considering the fact that they only survived an assassination attempt twelve hours ago was to their credit.

 

“ _No…sorry,” her partner replied shaking her head.  “I think its reason to say the Imps either got the agent or they killed themselves.”_

“ _Did Page contact you about-“_

_A sudden knock startled the two Intelligence agents and they looked at each other before looking at the door.  It was all they got to do before an explosion blew everything sky high._

_Winter found herself thrown forward by the force of the explosion and immediately reacted by instinct. Rolled away from the explosion and her eyes quickly sought out any type of covering. Finding a desk overturned by the blast, she crawled towards it, not caring if glass was digging painful lines into her arms._

_Fire roared all around them and Winter knew that they had to get out before the building collapsed. She peered out from her hiding place. “Iella!” she called out._

“ _Here!” was the faint reply and Winter realized that her hearing was very muffled. She reached up and took off the wig that was half burnt from the explosion and felt wetness around her ears. Taking her fingers away she saw blood._ Concussion _, she realized as she crawled towards where Iella’s voice had come from._

_She found Iella half buried underneath rubble, scratched and bloodied, but not seriously injured. “Don’t worry, I’m all right,” the brown-haired woman said, crawling out of the pile._

_Together they crawled out of the blaze through the back door that had been blown open by the blast. Sweet cool air greeted them, and Winter breathed in heavily, coughing as her smoke-filled lungs protested. She stood up, ignoring the fiery lines of pain that were threatening to overwhelm her senses. Slapping her hand to her side, she felt that her blaster was still secure and drew it out, just as Iella drew hers out too._

_The bomber still had to be here, especially if it was a professionally done job. Which meant they were still in danger. Winter lead the way, with Iella watching her back as they made their way through the underground streets of Courscant. A few of the citizens stared at them, but most ignored them. No one wanted to be the center of attention by two bloodied women and they knew when to back off, especially with them holding their blasters like professionals._

_Winter suddenly ducked behind a pillar as shots rang out. “Iella!” she called to her partner._

“ _Ahead, roughly 100 meters to your left!” her partner replied back through the din of blaster fire._

_Winter checked her surroundings before slipping off to her left. She signaled for Iella to draw the fire while she tried to ambush whoever was trying to kill them. Jogging inside a strip mall of sorts, she ducked pass people as she saw through a few shops’ windows that the blaster fire had changed direction and was now tracking Iella._

_She brushed past shoppers and a few security guards who started chasing after her._ Sithspit _, she swore silently to herself; guards were going to be a lot of trouble and they needed a cover quickly._

_She burst through the other side of the strip mall and stopped. Turning to her right she saw blaster fire and ran towards it. Stopping under a flight of stairs, she looked up and saw some cloth hanging from a particular spot in the ducts. She turned slightly and made a slashing motion to stop the security guards before pointing up at the person. They understood and stopped quietly, the leader of the security guards motioning to his men and women to fan out in case she didn’t finish the job._

_She climbed quietly and stealthily up the stairs before pulling herself up to the ducts. There, she stomach crawled until she was just feet away from the traitor who was still shooting at Iella, oblivious to anything behind him. Flipping her switch to stun, she fired and the traitor slumped to the ground immediately, unconscious. He was good at bombing the place, but not good enough to watch his own back._

_Winter brought herself up to the traitor and stared at his face. She narrowed her eyes as she recognized the member of her team. Triton Aedies was someone that had joined the Rebellion long ago…she wouldn’t have expected him to be a traitor… He was loyal and proved himself many times…_

 

Winter shook her head, snapping herself out of her reverie. Dealing with the security guards was easy enough. She had identified herself as part of the secret bureau of investigations and they had left it at that. Immediately after the guards left, she had contacted Kapp to forge some quick data files and identities for her and Iella to convince the guards if they did do a check.

It had been two months since she was assigned to Courscant, and in the span of two months they had not found their mission intelligence agent who had come before them and coordinated with Iella. This meant that either the agent was captured or already dead.

“Commander?” the voice of Ensign Page, one of the brightest in the field of Intelligence, came over and Winter looked up. Her rank as a Commander was a heavily guarded secret and not many people knew it. Only Page, Iella and a few others knew because of her status and contribution to the Intelligence committee, and not even Tycho or any of the Rogues knew of her status.

It wasn’t an official military commission, but it was official enough that General Cracken had her as one of his top agents.

“What is it Page?” she asked.

“We’ve got the message through and Cracken says to head back to HQ,” Page replied, looking as casual as possible, but Winter noticed that his hand wasn’t straying far from the blaster attached to his left leg. Caution in a seedy place like this was good, but Winter knew that she would have to remind Page that he was showing too much caution at the moment.

“All right,” Winter said before Page walked away, taking a swig out of his own bottle, a hurt expression on his face as he faked rejection by two women.

“I’ll set up the death reports and forge my new identity while you’re gone,” Iella said, taking a sip of her whiskey before she leaned back in the booth.

“The Lusankya thing is what worries me,” she said in quiet voice.

“Me too.”

After they had gotten Triton Aedies tied up and he had revived, he had started to whisper a single word: Lusankya. It had gotten to a point where he was nearly shouting it that they stunned him again before drugging him for transportation back to Home One.

“We should get going,” Winter got up and tossed a few coins before downing the rest of her lomin ale.

“The Force be with you,” she heard Iella whisper before she walked out of the bar alone.

* * *

Wedge tossed another report to the side of his desk. Everyday there were more and more reports for him to read over. In ways he was kind of glad that he hadn’t been promoted to General yet…then he would have to spend all of his days inside an office and probably become pale from the lack of sunlight. But still as a Commander who had no squadron to command he was stuck doing a desk job for the last month or so. The Rogues had been disbanded, and he had tried to submit a proposal to Admiral Ackbar and General Cracken to reform it with better pilots who had different skills but they told him to wait on it.

Their excuse was that it was too soon and Luke’s campaign in the Milagro System was just wrapping up. But before the official disbandment of Rogue Squadron, they had them do a small tour to give hope to the newest worlds that they had freed.

Oddly, during one of the tours, Soontir Fel had disappeared and while Cracken had set his Intelligence people on it, they had returned after a week and half with no traces of Baron Fel. Wedge had wanted to search for his brother-in-law, but Cracken had told him his agents would be on it for a long time.

Now, the rest of the Rogues were assigned elsewhere. Many of them had opted to become instructors and were elsewhere, teaching and forming new squadrons. Some had been assigned to other squadrons while others decided to retrain on other fighters. He, however, had been left alone with a desk job that he hated and barely any flight time left.

Leaning back in his chair in his office on board _Home One_ , Wedge scrubbed his face and wondered why Ackbar kept him here. He could have been training a new squadron or even been assigned to another squadron, perhaps with Luke, to help liberate worlds from Imperial rule.

The only other person technically, that still kept Rogue Squadron alive was Tycho, but after two months he still hadn’t return from his mission and Wedge was beginning to worry. Cracken hadn’t told him anything…and all of his requests to find out about his good friend were shunted away. A sudden burst of anger made him throw his stylus against the wall where it made a small clang before dropping to the ground. He was frustrated and there was nothing he could do…

Wedge closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and he decided that he would take his X-wing out, do a flyby of sorts, maybe a quick patrol to help calm his nerves. A beep on his comlink interrupted all thoughts and he flicked it on, a bit angrily.

“Antilles,” he said in a curt voice, not really in the mood for whoever was on the other side of the line.

“Commander, please report to my office immediately,” Admiral Ackbar’s ruddery voice came over and Wedge noticed the tension that was in the Mon Calamari Admiral’s voice.

“On my way,” he replied before shutting the link off. He stood up and grabbed his jacket before going out of the door.

A few minutes later he entered Admiral’s Ackbar’s office, the familiar draft of humidity immediately made his clothes a bit sticky on his skin. He looked around and was mildly surprised to see Winter standing next to Ackbar’s fish globe, staring at the fishes as a few jumped out and in.

“Winter,” he greeted her and she turned around, giving him a faint smile and a nod. He noticed that she looked a bit disturbed and wondered why.

“Commander,” Admiral Ackbar walked from a walled section of his office and Wedge saluted before standing at ease.

“Please, sit down. This is important and though we have not released any official information yet, our intelligence sources have confirmed it,” Ackbar gestured for them to sit down in an oval-ish table.

Wedge sensed that Ackbar didn’t have good news…but about what he didn’t know. He had a niggling feeling that it had to do with Tycho, but that just wasn’t possible, was it?

“As you know Captain Antilles, your second-in-command, Captain Celchu was sent out on a top secret mission two months ago,” Ackbar started and Wedge nodded. The Mon Calamari Admiral turned to Winter, “Your partner Iella was in charge of relaying communications with an agent we sent out, correct?”

“Yes sir,” Winter nodded.

Ackbar sighed and blinked his bulbous eyes a few times before he said in a quiet voice, “Captain Celchu was sent to Courscant to gather data to help us take over Courscant when all of our resources have been pooled together. A month and half ago he was captured by Imperial agents and is now presumed dead.”

The last words hit Wedge like a sledgehammer and his whole body suddenly felt like lead. He knew that his expression was that of a shell-shocked person. He couldn’t move as his brain tried to comprehend what Ackbar had said… Tycho...captured…dead? That wasn’t possible…

“That’s…not possible,” he managed to get out in a barely heard whisper, but Ackbar heard it and turned his head to look at him.

“It’s true,” Ackbar said sadly, “the agent Winter turned into us provided us limited information, but the data we gathered provided the fact that Captain Celchu was betrayed and captured. We presumed that Celchu as a trained agent and one of our best infiltrators would sooner kill himself than let his captors find out what information he holds.”

Wedge blinked, still unable to comprehend the loss that had been inflicted on him. He glanced over to see that Winter still had her icy expression on, but he read the pain in her eyes. Though she was very good at internalizing her feelings, he realized that this was as hard on her as him.

“I’m sorry, Commander, Winter,” Ackbar apologized shaking his head, but Wedge barely heard the apology. “We held out hope for as long as possible, but…” The Admiral trailed off as he stood up.

Wedge forced his legs to stand up and he saluted a bit stiffly at Ackbar before walking out. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Winter stay behind before the door to the Admiral’s office closed behind him with a gentle hiss. Walking back towards his own office, the X-wing ride was going to take all but gone from his mind, he passed by the mess hall and stopped. Turning back around he headed into the mess hall and sat down heavily in the bar.

“Corellian whiskey,” he ordered in a quiet voice, trying hard not to let his grief show. Tycho was his good friend, one of his few best friends…what had happened?

As the servo-droid returned with his whiskey, he placed a few coins on the table before taking a long drink from the glass. He forcibly swallowed the whiskey past a lump in his throat, letting the drink burn all the way down to his stomach before thunking the glass back onto the bar table.

Rogue Squadron had been two…but now, it was just him. Him alone.

* * *

Winter locked the door behind her to her own private quarters. She had only taken a few steps towards her bed when her legs gave way beneath her and she crumpled to the ground, tears falling from her face. Her icy façade shattered, she cried for the loss of her love.

“ _I have to apologize again for the mix-up, Winter. I didn’t really mean to worry you that way.”_

“ _I was only worried about one thing, Tycho; that I wouldn’t be able to give you that kiss I promised when you first arrived.”_

“ _It’s not the difficulty of the task, m’lady, but the degree of motivation. You once rewarded me with a kiss, and for the chance at another, I’ll tear this ship apart. Believe it.”_

“ _If it wouldn’t get us kicked out of here, I’d pluck that flower and let you wear it in your hair.”_

Winter felt so alone, but she knew that in her heart, she would make the Empire pay. Alderaan had lost another of its survivors to the Empire’s black heart, but she was determined to stab deep into the heart to make it bleed.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Don’t know when’s the next update, but hopefully soon!

 

Chapter 11

 

The scream was inhuman, but Tycho barely heard it. He barely even comprehended that it came from his own mouth, let alone it was his own vocal chords doing the screaming. It was an eerie, almost animalistic, yet it contained the bare traces of humanity in them. The only sign that assured the weak and those that might have been watching this that the man, strapped to a metallic slab held at an angle, was still human and had not been depraved or turned into an animal…at least not yet.

“Now, we shall try this again, Captain Celchu,” an oily, but cold voice asked as soon as Tycho stopped screaming.

Tycho turned his head to his right side, trying to find some comfort in the blood slicked slab of metal he had been strapped into. He had already tasted the blood in his mouth, and breathing in its coppery scent was an old habit right now as his cheek slipped slightly from the red crimson streaks that was already there. However, he tried to find whatever solace he had that though it felt like dying a hundred times, he miraculously still had enough blood in his body to keep himself buoyed and alive – and even coherent enough to try to process his torturer’s words.

He faintly saw the blur of the man dressed in an imperial officer’s uniform pass by him, checking on the equipment that was strapped all over his stark naked body. The only saving grace was that a wide strap covered his privates, but even that wasn’t enough to elicit shivers from the cold air that was blowing into the room.

He knew that it was to keep him awake, and as his body twitched and shivered from the cold and from the recent electric storm that ran over his nerves and muscles, he tried to keep warm and happy thoughts inside of his head. But it wasn’t easy.

His mind kept slipping to the fact that he knew he was in Lusankya, a prisoner of Iceheart’s schemes. He would not turn…he would not turn.

A sudden involuntary cough worked its painful way out of his lungs and he bit back a cry of pain as he forced the cough out, along with some spittle of blood. Heaving coughs suddenly racked his body following that and he gritted his teeth, trying not to let his body move with his cough. It hurt to pull against the restraints that pinned him on the table. He could feel his throat raw from all the blood and acid that he had coughed out and after the last spastic cough was gone, he turned his head to the side, letting it soak the blood on the side, his breaths coming in gasping wheezes.

“It looks like you can use some water,” his torturer suddenly appeared in his line of vision and Tycho had to squint through his blurred eyes to clearly see the man sneering in his face, a devilish smile on his lips.

Tycho worked his jaw around a few times before he croaked out in a rather cracked voice, “Go…to…hell…”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” the man replied before suddenly slapping him hard, slamming his face to the side, but Tycho barely felt the pain. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like any water?” his torturer asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, dangling the cup in his line of vision.

He just closed his eyes, trying to ignore the man. There was a niggling part of him that told him that he knew this man from somewhere, but couldn’t exactly place it.

“Now, now, don’t close your eyes. That’s really rude when someone is talking with you,” the man chided him before suddenly he winced and squinted as a blinding light was shone on his face. He couldn’t crack open his eyes, but even if he didn’t the light drilled through his eyelids and made him want to open his eyes in pain.

After what seemed like an agonizing half an hour underneath the bright light it was suddenly shut off, forcing a gasp out of him as he blinked open his eyes. He blinked them a few more times, feeling some of the blood that had crusted over his lids flake away.

He couldn’t see…

“Can’t see that well can we, Tycho,” the sickeningly sweet voice returned and he tried to move his head as much as his injuries allowed him to, to follow the voice, but even then, he couldn’t really follow the voice.

He could barely feel a prick of something entering his skin, but then again, everything hurt so when a dizzy feeling crept over him, it felt unusual, but…normal amongst the pain.

When the light shut off, he felt as if every single one of his nerve endings had come alive, and his pain receptors were screaming all over his body. Everything _hurt_. He couldn’t move an inch without having all of his neurons firing all over the place, forcing him to stop whatever he was trying to do. Even breathing hurt…and he was breathing in painful gasps.

Fighting the pain he forced his lips to move and his vocal chords to speak. “The hell…do you…want,” he swallowed laboriously.

There was no answer for a while and the dizziness started to make his stomach turn. He was very used to vertigo having been a pilot and all…but…w-what…?

Colors started to flash before his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything beyond them. He felt like he was starting to swim in murky waters, like everything was confused and swirling around him.

Suddenly a harsh silence settled into place.

Then, a voice.

“You’ve failed in the simulators, Celchu,” the nauseatingly sweet voice was gone and was replaced with a cold, hard, imperialistic voice. “the commander was disappointed in your actions. Luckily, you didn’t suffer serious injuries. Once you’ve recovered he wants you back in there to complete the mission against the rebels.”

“R-Rebels?” Tycho was puzzled and swallowed painfully again.

“I knew we shouldn’t have set those simulators so high,” the voice sounded irritated. “Do you remember anything Celchu?”

He was silent for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order. Everything seemed so jumbled, but he faintly remembered someone talking about setting the simulators to respond as if the person had been shot. But where was that…when…? A name popped up in his mind that sounded vaguely familiar…

“Klivan?” he whispered past his cracked lips.

“Hmph,” the voice snorted, “that boy doesn’t even know the first thing about programming simulators, but yes, at least you remember that he did.”

No…no…he didn’t remember the person named Klivan who programmed the simulators…it…was…someone else who did. He knew it was someone else who did it, but a fuzzy image of a face – definitely alien, kept settling in place – but there was no name for that fuzzy image. Other name started to float around his consciousness – until a sharp flash of pain whipped across his face. He tried to see who it was, but the darkness still lingered.

“Pay attention Flight Officer Celchu,” the voice said in an irritated tone.

Flight Officer…? No…that wasn’t right was it? Or wait, he had to be a flight officer, otherwise Hobbie would have his skin before anything else. No, not Hobbie, but Biggs. But then again, he was always better in the simulators than Darklighter or Klivan combined. He even nearly shot down his instructor…what was his name?

Fel.

Soontir Fel, that was it.

“ _If it wouldn’t get us kicked out of here, I’d pluck that flower and let you wear it in your hair.”_

“ _Not a wise choice, Lieutenant.”_

Lieutenant?!

When did he become a Lieutenant? He was a Flight Officer.

“Flight…Officer,” Tycho struggled out of his cracked lips as his eyes rolled around, not seeing the room, but lost in his jumbled memories. He was a Flight Officer in the Imperial Navy. He was training on…on…Prefsbelt IV, yeah that was it.

He was training…

Alderaan.

How? How did that get in?

Alderaan was his home. Of course he wouldn’t be back there for a while, but Nyiestra was waiting for him.

Nyiestra…she was…

A flash of a white hair and sparkling green eyes flashed across his vision and Tycho attempted to shake his head, but everything hurt.

Why did he hurt?

No…Nyiestra…

Childhood, she would wait. She promised. She promised that she would wait until he graduated from the Academy…then they would marry.

“ _Tycho, don’t hesitate…live free,” Nyiestra said, and Tycho nodded before something about her words caught his attention.  Live free…?_

“ _Live…free?”_

_Nyiestra smiled, “Yes.  You’re supposed to one of the best fighter pilots out there, don’t let them convert you.”_

Convert? Convert what?

_Lusankya._

What was that?

_Lusankya._

“ _Tycho…Alderaan was destroyed a few days ago because of the rebel forces that had taken the planet hostage.  Everyone on that planet was killed.  Grand Moff Tarkin had no choice…he pleaded with the rebels to stop using the planet as a hostage…”_

_Lusankya._

Alderaan destroyed…his…birthday? Yes. It was his birthday, he was celebrating and he thought…

That was when he turned Rebel.

Rebel…

_Lusankya._

The Rebel Alliance.

Wedge Antilles…he was…he was his commanding officer! In Rogue Squadron! And Hobbie! Hobbie was there too! Good old Hobbie who took too many frequent bacta dunks in his opinion. Tycho let loose a soft snort of laughter that made pain shoot all over his naked body, but he didn’t care anymore. He _remembered_ …

_Lusankya._

Wes! Plourr! And it was Herian I’ngre, a Bith who had set those simulators so high… That was when they found out Plourr was actually a real princess. And all the other Rogues…

_Lusankya._

Winter.

How could he have forgotten her? Her beautiful face, her sharp green eyes, her hair, white as the glistening snow on Hoth. How could he…

_Lusankya._

He was at Lusankya, he was captured, he was a prisoner of war… Tycho snapped his eyes open, fighting to flinch against the pain or the fact that he was completely naked. He turned towards the source of the voice that had talked to him and his eyes narrowed as he focused on the slightly blurred figure dressed in an immaculate imperial uniform. He recognized the man…a Captain.

Captain Falco Avin, the man who had captured him and delivered him to this horrid prison.

_Lusankya._

“You’ve failed, Captain,” Tycho barely got the words past his cracked and blood caked lips. His throat was raw and he was speaking in a harsh whisper, “you haven’t won. Tycho Celchu, Captain, Republic Space Force, serial number 68970024.”

He received a frigid look in return before Avin just smiled slowly and walked around to a panel full of knobs. “Hmph. Insubordination will not be tolerated, Celchu,” Avin sneered before twisting a knob on the panel.

Tycho’s screams filled the room once more as electricity raced across his already weakened body, agonizing him further. His screams continued for a long time and to Avin, it sounded like music in his ears.

* * *

When one is in the throes of immense pain, one really can’t remember that much, but Tycho vaguely remembered a conversation as he was half-conscious somewhere in a dank room. He could feel the cold hard floor and someone sponging some blood off of him. He could feel someone dressing him in clothes, but he couldn’t really remember the conversation.

All he remembered was that he was in Lusankya and he was a prisoner.

He didn’t want to open his eyes for the fear of seeing _her_ face again, or perhaps that Captain’s, or even maybe this mismatched eyes of the director…Iceheart…

“A-Am I,” he tried the words out of his mouth, and found that they were a lot easier to form words than, what was it hours, days, time didn’t matter to him anymore, before. “Am I…going to die here?” he asked no one in particular.

“No,” a gentle kind voice, he recognized it from somewhere, but…he couldn’t place it, “you’re not going to die son. You’re going to live and find a way out of here.”

It was probably an expression his face, but the voice bent closer to his ears.

“You’re not going to die, son. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir…” he breathed out, the voice rang of authority and he was quick to obey it, “thank you sir…”

Tycho passed out once more.

* * *

The next time he awoke was a hand roughly shaking him. He blearily opened his eyes, and even that effort sent spasms of pain shooting all over his body and nerves. Where-oh yeah, he was at Lusankya, a prisoner.

“Celchu, wake up,” a vaguely familiar rough voice whispered urgently in his ear before there was the loud harsh sound of someone shuffling away. That was followed by the piercing stomping of booted feet and Tycho squinted to see from his blurry dimmed vision. White mixed with some black filled his vision and a part of his fog-addled brain registered that they were stormtroopers.

His vision was suddenly filled with white and pain exploded throughout his body. Hissing and crying out as the stormtroopers picked him up roughly, he tried to struggle against their grasp, not to escape, but to stop them from hurting him further, but that only served to tighten their grip on his forearms. It sent a new wave of pain through him and he saw black spots dance in his vision. He gasped as he was hauled to his feet and his legs wouldn’t cooperate with him.

A sharp sting in his right leg told him that he had a broken ankle at least, if not a completely broken leg. Unfortunately, the stormtroopers took no notice of his discomfort and instead jammed him roughly to stand himself on the floor. He sagged to the ground as his own weight was put upon his broken leg. He would have collapsed if not for the two troopers that were still holding their vise-like grips on his forearms.

Through the roar and screams of pain that were rushing through his head, he barely heard another voice speak up, “Gah, he’s a mess. Get him up and out of here. Stupid Rebel scum.”

Tycho was dragged across the room, his legs bumping into jagged rocks or others who weren’t fast enough to get away. All the while, each time his broken leg came in contact with something, he could barely keep the cry of pain from escaping his cracked lips.

He really couldn’t see where they were taking him, his whole vision that of the metal ground as it eased the pain, though not by much, to keep his head down. But what he didn’t see, his ears, sensitive from all of his wounds hurting, picked up on sounds. They were harsh in his ears and rattled his eardrums, but he could hear the creaking of metal, clamps being released and realized that they were somewhere near a hanger bay of sorts.

“Hey Captain,” one of the stormtroopers suddenly spoke up, making him wince from the sound. “I think he knows where he’s going…”

“Oh does he, now?” the Captain replied and Tycho started slightly. He recognized that voice. Imperialistic…bossy… “Poor little pet thinks he can escape right now, does he?”

Pet?!

The brief flash of memory came rushing back to him. It was him! It was that Captain! Falco Avin was his name and he was-

Tycho’s train of thought was cut off as he was suddenly blindsided by a stormtrooper’s fist. He fell painfully into the waiting grips of unconsciousness.

* * *

Captain Falco Avin stared at the unconscious Tycho Celchu, a look of disgust creeping on his scarily handsome face. The man looked so pathetic right now. He could just kill him with a few more punches. Or with a knife. Then that stupid Alderaanian wouldn’t be such a burden on Director Isard.

Why she was keeping a piece of filth like him alive was beyond his comprehension, but he would always obey her orders. After all, she hadn’t been wrong so far in any of her predictions or calculations. He knew that she didn’t wield the power of the Force like those stupid Jedi of ancient past, but she was good at reading and predicting the way things were going to happen.

“Get him onto the shuttle,” he growled at the troopers who were just staring at the unconscious pile that was Celchu.

“Yes sir,” the stormtroopers replied in unison before marching off with their bloodied burden.

Falco sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His orders were simple and clear. Keep Celchu at the prison alive, but do not let him escape. Escape wasn’t going to be Celchu’s first priority; it was going to be survival.

_Welcome to Akirt’tar, Celchu. I hope you die there_ , he thought as a malicious smile crept onto his handsome features.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Oh why, oh why does it take me so long to write this story? Oh well. Right now it’s classified as a Summer Project so hopefully by August this WHOLE story will be completed. Oh yeah, decided to end the torture here because I was getting bored and wanted to ship him to Akirt’tar where the real fun begins.

 

Chapter 12

 

Akrit’tar was not really a habitable world. In many ways, it was a lot like Kessel, except it was a total garrison and fortress. Imperials controlled the planet and the atmosphere contained barely enough oxygen that in order to move far, one had to wear masks so not to die of asphyxiation.

This was the barren home for convicts, political prisoners, and all sorts of denizens who weren’t sent to Kessel. This was the private holding pen of the Empire. Kessel was used by everyone so sending Tycho Celchu there wouldn’t be too wise. Keeping him here at Akirt’tar was another story – it was perfect and the Rebels weren’t able to penetrate it’s tight security.

Its prisoners lived in confinement, only allowed out to work in digging tunnels. There were no precious metals or any type of refined ore in this planet…they were just digging tunnels until they died and were buried in those tunnels. They were digging their own graves.

So when Tycho felt the first stirrings of consciousness, he heard the murmurings of conversations all around him. His hearing still wasn’t acute enough to pick out what people were saying, but as a gradual awareness surrounded him, he realized that he wasn’t on Lusankya anymore. The gravity here felt different, a bit heavier…

He was also aware that there was something wet sponged on his forehead. He welcomed its cool presence, but after all those days, months – he didn’t know how long he was in Iceheart’s torture chambers – in confinement and under torture probes, he tensed against the touch.

“It’s all right, I’m not hurting you,” a voice whispered above him and the sponging continued.

Tycho tried to place the voice, but couldn’t. He could feel water drip down the side of his face and through his hair and while it did feel good, he still couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked them a few times, trying to see when he realized that he was in near absolute darkness.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice said again and this time, Tycho could hear a familiar accent in the voice. It sounded like something was being sucked into a water ventilator only to be pushed back out at the same time. There were only two species in the whole galaxy with that kind of accent. Mon Calamarians and Quarrens.

“You’re…” he tried to say, but his throat and lips wouldn’t cooperate with him.

“Here,” the voice said again before cup was placed near his lip and tilted. Tycho sucked greedily at the water, not caring if it tasted sour or had bits of dirt in it. He swallowed a bit painfully and drank more of the filthy water. “Not too fast…” the voice chided him gently, “it’s not the best, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Finally, when he felt his throat was wet enough he tried to speak again. “You’re…Mon Cal or Quarren, aren’t you?”

The sponging immediately stopped and Tycho heard the rustling of fabric against the floor he was lying on. “How do you know?” the voice asked, this time warily.

The brief image of Admiral Ackbar floated up to his mind and a brief smile formed on his lips. “One of the commanders of the Rebel Fleet is a Mon Cal. He’s got an accent you can’t forget.”

“Admiral Ackbar?” the voice asked.

“Yeah…” Tycho tried to move, but it was painful. He blinked in surprise as the sponging started again. “Why…”

“I trust you. It’s just Ackbar’s one of my heroes. I’ve heard so much about him and his service to the Rebellion that it just lifts my heart when there’s news of his exploits that reach here.”

Tycho still didn’t know if he could trust the Mon Calamari, he was sure it was a Mon Cal because as far as he knew, Quarrens didn’t praise that much about Ackbar though most respected him. The only Quarren he knew that would most likely praise Ackbar was Nrin and Nrin was back on _Home One_.

As he searched his fuzzy memories, he knew that he had been captured, but the last few, was it days or weeks or even hours, those were so fuzzy… He remembered…

_Lusankya._

“Lusankya,” he whispered as a flash of cold eyes stared at him, one molten red the other icy blue. “Iceheart…”

The sponging immediately stopped and there was a slight shift that was a harsh scraping sound in his ears. “Lusankya?! You were at Lusankya?!”

“I…” Tycho hesitated before his squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of rapid-firing images. He could feel the phantom pain, but he clearly remembered Iceheart’s face… “I…think so…I don’t really remember.”

“Oh,” the sponging suddenly continued, “its okay. You’re safe now. You’re on Akrit’tar, one of the Empire’s prison strongholds.”

As the Mon Cal continued sponging away, he could feel the phantom pain receding and was grateful for such care, but he still didn’t fully trust the Mon Cal doing this to him. “Who are you?” he asked tentatively.

“My name is Akiba Muune. I’ve been a prisoner here since the fall of Emperor Palpatine and the Empire at Endor,” she replied.

“Why…are you helping me?”

“Because…I sensed something within you. I can’t really describe it, but it tells me I should help you. That sense is something that I can’t tell anyone, but I know that you’ll keep it a secret from the guards around here. It’s like a hunch, I guess,” Tycho could almost see the Mon Cal smile in the near darkness that he was in.

“Why do you trust me that implicitly? For all you know, I could be an Imp spy sent to find you out.”

“I know. But if you were, those hunches of mine would have warned me long ago and then you’d be cannon fodder for the other prisoners here who want nothing more than to eat you alive, literally.”

Tycho didn’t know why, but he felt in his gut that he could trust this Akiba Muune. He let loose a sigh of relief, hitching only when he felt a sharp stab of pain in his ribs.

“Careful, you’re pretty injured right now. They don’t care if you work today with that injury, but I’ll hide you so you can heal properly,” Akiba said.

“Thank you,” he replied as he closed his eyes and regulated his breath, his discomfort eased by the sponging Akiba was giving to his forehead. “By the way, the name is Tycho. Tycho Celchu.”

“Very nice meeting your acquaintances Tycho,” were the last words he heard before he drifted off to a fairly uneasy sleep.

* * *

When Tycho awoke again, his forehead was dry and he couldn’t feel the nearness of Akiba’s presence like he did before. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, trying to regain his equilibrium. Looking around, he noted with a start that daylight had streamed in and the large expanse of dirt and rocks with bars was his prison cell.

It wasn’t a single prison cell, but a mass pit where bodies laid and a few of those bodies groaned in pain or were the sounds of those dying. If was hadn’t been so battle hardened, he could have shivered in the fear of being close to dead and dying bodies, but the sight of it wasn’t uncommon for him. He had been next to dead bodies since he joined up with the Rebel Alliance – fallen bodies of his comrades in the fight against the Empire.

The pits were mostly empty and he wondered if the people who had inhabited the area were working as Akiba had mentioned the last time he was conscious. His time sense was totally thrown off ever since he had been transferred from Lusankya. The odd thing was when he tried to think of that place, he would get flashes of pain and blurred images, but he could barely remember anything about the place. The only thing he knew for sure was the whisper of the dreaded place that was his constant reminder that he had been there and he had been a prisoner of Ysanne Isard.

There was no doubt in his mind and he knew that he wasn’t hallucinating. Call it a gut feeling of sorts; he mentally challenged those who doubted his words.

Tycho got up, using a rocky outcropping near where he laid as a support to get to his feet. He gingerly tested his weight and felt dizzy, but otherwise fine, though he ached all over. Glancing over himself he noticed that dried blood was caked on the remnants of clothing that looked like remnants of a flightsuit. He wondered why he wearing a flightsuit and a flash of memory appeared in his head.

He had been on a mission to Courscant, to gather intelligence information and that was how he landed in Lusankya. _I must have been escaping in a TIE…_ he thought to himself as he took his hand off of the outcropping and stood on his feet, swaying slightly. He realized his dizziness was probably from a mixture of hunger, lack of water, and some of his healing injuries. At least he hoped they were healing instead of being infected.

Looking around at his surroundings and letting his eyes focus and adjust, he rested a hand on an outcropping and let himself just breathe in and out for a few seconds. As soon as he felt he had regained some of his equilibrium, he took a tentative step forward, deciding to explore his surroundings. Feel though he wasn’t going to collapse any time soon, Tycho walked around slowly, a twinge of pain in his ankle. He had a feeling that it had been broken and recently mended and took easy over the uneven ground.

There were a few moans coming from dying bodies of prisoners there and it took all of his effort not to cringe and instead, kept to himself, forcing himself to walk the whole length of the giant cavernous pit a few times to get his strength back up. He was about half-way through his fourth round when he heard a clamoring of boots in the distance and he looked around, trying to find a dark corner to crouch in and hide.

He spotted an outcropping near where he had started and hobbled slightly towards it, the twinge of pain in his leg protesting as he put his weight on it. Just as he got to the outcropping and hid himself as best as he could behind it, at least a squad of stormtroopers came marching down the hallway on the other side of the pit, their booted feet resounding in unison. Behind them were a bunch of prisoners, all dressed in rags and covered in filth and dirt. They were humans and humanoid along with aliens and all of them at least had a defeated look on their faces.

Behind the group of prisoners was another squad of stormtroopers and an imperial officer. The massive bars to the pit area opened and the prisoners shuffled into the pit obediently before the bars closed behind them. Then the stormtroopers left again.

Even before the stormtroopers left the group of prisoners that had been shuffled in already began to disperse to the various corners or just sat down on the ground, staring at nothing. A few even began to talk among themselves before a small scuffle broke out. Still, Tycho didn’t leave his hiding spot…and he was glad that he didn’t as more stormtroopers leading more prisoners came by again and let the docile, defeated prisoners back into the pit-cell.

He watched as this process happened at least six other times before the pit was almost overcrowded with people and alien beings. Bodies pressed up against another and Tycho felt like he was going to panic among the crowd. He still didn’t feel well enough to venture out and ask where the food was…or even tempt some of the denizens in the crowd for some information.

He desperately wondered where the Mon Calamari that had taken care of him was…perhaps Akiba had been killed? Or maybe she was somewhere in the crowd and had forgotten him? He wouldn’t doubt that she had probably forgotten him. In situations like these he knew that it was survival of the fittest and right now, he was near the bottom of the food chain.

Suddenly a salmon-colored Mon Cal poked her head through the throng of people and the wide watery eyes blinked at him before its mouth opened in an equivalent of a smile. “Tycho! You’re awake!”

He stared at the Mon Cal and realized that it was Akiba and she had found him… She pushed her way through to his side and one of her finned hands came up and brushed his forehead lightly. “Are you all right?”

“How did you find me?” he asked as he stumbled slightly as bodies pressed and moved around them.

“I had a sense of where you might be and followed it,” Akiba shrugged, “you all right?”

“A lot better,” he nodded, “thank you.”

“No need,” she gave him a rueful smile, “I expect the favor to be repaid someday.”

Tycho half-smiled, “Consider it.” He looked around, “What’s going on? And…is there any food?” They both sat down near the hidden outcropping, almost touching each other because of the crowded area, but he didn’t mind. He at least had an ally if not friend in this whole mess.

Akiba shook her head, “You’ll have to work to get food. I was lucky enough to sneak in some food and water for you while you were recovering from your wounds. They usually come around in the mornings and grab all of us in groups to work down in the mines.”

“Akirt’tar has mines?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, but they’re worthless. We’re basically digging our own graves,” she replied. “But don’t even think of trying to escape after you’re locked up in here. Guards all over the place…plus there are many factions in here and they’ll be watching for anyone to escape. The Imps here give the heads of these factions’ rewards for catching anyone who tries to escape.”

He nodded; absorbing all of the information he was given. “Thieves, murders, and other unsavory folks around here, aren’t there?”

She laughed softly, “Not all of us are unsavory.”

“Present company excluded of course,” he replied, a part of him feeling better since he could actually chat and laugh with a fellow prisoner. “Why are you here? And are there any other Alliance members here?”

“Most of the command staff was killed within the first few weeks we were here. It’s only the low level technicians like me that are left and the rest have pretty much joined up with the factions here. I’ve tried to stay away, but it’s been hard.”

There was something about her words that didn’t make sense and Tycho stared at her, wondering what she was trying to hide. He could see the hidden fear in her eyes and frowned. What made her so scared…?

“What happened?” he asked gently, noticing for the first time through her ragged clothing that she was covered in bruises and scars either from previous fights or something else he didn’t know.

She stared out into the crowd, parts which had formed circles around at least two fights that were happening and was silent for a long time before she finally sighed. “The real reason I saved you because I didn’t want you corrupted by the others.”

“What?”

“You were dumped in here around two weeks ago by one of the high level Imperial officers that rules here. We’ve seen him about and know that he’s one of the top Imps. He only brings prisoners personally when that particular prisoner has a lot of stake. So when you arrived, unconscious, you were already part of the warring factions. Each wanted you because you were important to the political power and influence the factions have here. You had to be important…otherwise that Captain wouldn’t have brought you down here personally.”

Tycho didn’t say anything and just waited for Akiba to continue.

“The hunch I had told me that if you were to be taken by any of the factions your life would be over as it is and I knew I had to do something to save you from that,” Akiba quieted and trembled slightly before forcing herself to continue, “I persuaded the faction leader that had taken you in to release you to me.”

She immediately fell silent and Tycho stared at her, comprehension dawning on him as he realized what she had done to save him from being a pawn in what looked like the tip of the iceberg of a war between the various factions in the prison. That was why she was probably covered in bruises and scratches…she had sold her body for his sake.

“I’m…sorry,” he said, feeling hollow as he didn’t know any words to comfort her.

She stared at him, her bulbous eyes watery with unshed tears. “Don’t be…I just hope my hunches are correct…”

They fell silent for a few minutes before a thought nagged at Tycho. Her hunches…they sounded awfully familiar and he had heard of these “hunches” before…from Luke when they were stationed on Hoth. His former Commander had always had hunches on when there was going to be a bad storm or perhaps some of the Wampa were going to attack.

“These, hunches of yours,” he started in a halting and quiet voice, “do you think you can access the Force?”

She blinked and stared at him, her mouths lightly agape in surprise, “I’ve never thought about that… I mean I only heard of the Force being present in Jedi Luke Skywalker, but no…”

“Don’t take my word, but just consider it. I mean Skywalker used to be my former commander back on Hoth and he used to comment about his hunches and instincts being correct.”

“All right,” she nodded, understanding that he was only suggest and not trying to imply that she could use the Force. “Thanks Tycho…”

“I think I’ll start work tomorrow and maybe plan my escape,” Tycho commented softly before turning to Akiba, “you should get some sleep. I’ve slept enough as it is.”

“Are you sure? You still don’t look fully healed,” Akiba looked at him doubtfully.

“I’ll survive…besides, I want to meet the Captain that sent me here,” he muttered the last part mostly to himself as the Mon Cal nodded before settling in next to him, closing her eyes. A few minutes later, Tycho could see the rise and fall of her chest as sleep took her. He stared back out at the crowd that was still a bit rowdy and wondered what the next day would bring him.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Okay, if this chapter sounds incredibly awkward, it’s because I haven’t written in the story for soooo long. I have a bad habit of putting these chapters off. I was trying to make it into a summer project but that didn’t work so it’ll just have to make do with a sporadically updated story. Thank you for all of you who’ve stood by this fic for such a long time. We are getting the gears and plot moving.

 

_Chapter 13_

 

Tycho had managed to get at least three hours of sleep before the booted feet of stormtroopers told him that morning had arrived and they were going to be escorted to the mines for a day’s work. He got up along with the Mon Cal, still feeling a twinge of pain in his leg and watched as the stormtroopers broke the prisoners into groups and led them out.

Akiba unconsciously grabbed his hand into hers and pulled him close to her as the stormtroopers approached them and unceremoniously shoved them into a group of people before prodding the group along. He stumbled along with her as they were led out of the pit-cell and struggled to stay to the side so he could watch his surroundings. The first task of a prisoner was to escape and he wanted to know where he was going and burn the images into his memory.

They walked through various twists and turns of corridors until they came upon and open area that was surrounded by dome where a line had formed. Tycho realize that this was where they were going to eat and the stormtroopers promptly shoved the people into line. He was roughly pushed into the line and gave a quick glare to the stormtrooper who shoved him before following Akiba’s lead.

They were given a pasty white organic looking meal with chunks of something in it and sat down at the edge of a table and Akiba began shoveling the food into her mouth, making no sound. Tycho stared at his food before taking a mouthful in and nearly gagging on its contents.

“Don’t spit it out. You need your strength. Its protein and other nutrient based meal,” the Mon Cal whispered urgently as he forced himself to swallow and take another mouthful. When he was half way through his “meal” the Mon Cal suddenly dumped the rest of her food into his and he glanced at her.

“You’ll need it since it’s your first day working,” she whispered before glancing around, making sure that no one was interested in their conversation, “the mines are rough. Stay close to me and grab onto my utility belt so you won’t get lost.”

“Utility belt?”

“We pick them up before heading into the mines. The weapons aren’t powerful enough to kill any guard, but it’s all we got,” she replied. He quickly forced the rest of his breakfast down his throat just as the stormtroopers started to come towards them to move them along. Some of the prisoners protested as their meals were taken away, but they were roughly hauled into line and the food thrown to the ground.

However, most of the others were silent and almost docile, as if they had expected this life to be their only saving grace. He realized that the prisoners that were silent had been here the longest and they had resigned themselves to die in the mines…to die by the Empire’s hand. A slight shudder ran through him as he followed Akiba and the rest of the line out of the eating hall, he most certainly wasn’t going to resign himself to dying in the mines of Akrit’tar, no way in hell.

They marched through a series of downward spiraling hallways, the lighting getting dimmer and dimmer. Broken appliances littered the sides of the halls, remnants of droids, a few skulls and bones, and other appliances. There were also scorch marks that lined some of the walls and he was curious as to what it was before Akiba grabbed his hand to prevent him from touching the walls for a closer inspection.

“Rebellion about a few weeks ago…took out one of the major faction leaders here… The stormtroopers had all of us watched their execution,” she whispered to him as they shuffled along.

“Those blast marks look like grenade work,” he commented softly.

“They executed them in various ways…some with grenades stuck onto them, others the traditional blaster to the head style,” she murmured back.

Tycho looked at the walls and saw indeed, one of the black marks on the wall had a light outline of a human body…

The line abruptly stopped and he nearly crashed into Akiba’s back before steadying himself on a rocky outcropping. It was then that the Mon Cal shoved a worn looking belt with a few tools into his face along with a breather mask and heavy gloves.

“For you…they’re one of the better ones I could get,” she said and Tycho fumbled slightly with all of the things in his hands, but managed to strap the belt on, fit the breather mask over his face, and put the rough gloves on. He was shoved slightly into the wall outcropping as others tried to get the equipment and his leg protested at such sudden movement.

“All right, Group 1, move in,” one of the stormtroopers suddenly shouted and the shuffling of feet nearly made Tycho loose Akiba in the crowd. He barely latched onto her arm before he felt himself swept along with the group going further down the hall. They stopped in front of heavy looking blast doors before the doors groaned open and he was blasted with a musty smell, cool wind, and a dark oppressive feeling. There were no lights and the group shuffled forward, the others turning on their head lamps as they headed into the mines.

He shuffled along with them into the mines, turning on his head lamp and breathed the musty and dust filled air. Immediately he wanted to gag and the watery contents of his meal threatened to spill out of his mouth but he clamped down on his gag reflex. Instead, he coughed violently, dismayed to feel his whole body shaking as they kept going further down into the mines.

The chill air of the mines puckered his exposed skin in the thin insulate material of the remnants of his flightsuit that he still wore. He shivered slightly as a few others did too before bunching together for warmth. The smell of so many bodies near each other wasn’t as bad as it was in the pits where people usually laid upon heaps on top of each other if there wasn’t any space, but it was still discomforting.

He didn’t dare glance back as his flashlight played all over the back of Akiba’s head, highlighting the patches of blue-green rubbery-like skin she had, but he thought he had heard a sinister snicker of sorts. Maybe what the Mon Cal had said was true…maybe he was a valuable commodity…and if so, being bunched together like this, with tools that while couldn’t exactly kill stormtroopers, it probably could kill the other prisoners here.

Taking one hand off of holding Akiba’s belt so that he wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle, he reached down to his own utility belt and adjusted it so that all of his tools were in front of him. No need to give anyone who might either have it against him or against Akiba an advantage.

It seemed like they were walking for forever when suddenly the group came to a halt and the bright white stormtroopers pushed their way through the group, sending a few people scrambling to grab onto outcroppings or rocks. It was also then that Tycho was truly aware of their surroundings. He was shoved to his right and grabbed onto a rock face with Akiba and a couple of others joining him. Flashing his headlight around him, he saw that they were on a narrow path, and the edge of that path was a very, very, deep and dark cavern that seemed to go down for miles. He peered over the outcropping, making sure that his grip on the jagged rock face was secure…

“It’s endless…two people died yesterday. We kept hearing them scream…for about ten minutes…then either their screams died away or they actually hit the bottom,” the Mon Cal murmured before pulling him away from the edge and towards the opposite side, where he saw many holes, most of them barely big enough to fit bodies through pocketed the rocky wall. He saw that most of the prisoners had tunneled their way in and were already at work.

“We’re over here,” she pulled him towards one of the larger holes…almost big enough to fit two people at the same time. “Do what I do and the roof won’t collapse over us.” He nodded, trusting her.

Akiba got down flat on her stomach and Tycho did the same. She pulled a few tools from her belt and he fumbled with his, but managed to get them out and watched as she pulled herself into the tunnel. “Follow me,” her light shined into his face, blinding him temporarily but he quickly blinked the spots out of his vision and followed next to her into the man-made tunnel.

It was cramped and the distinctive fish-like smell of her in such close proximity almost made him gag through his breather mask. He was careful not to scrape the tubes of his mask against the gravel as he crawled his way next to her. Occasionally, his arms scrapped against the jagged rocks of the ceiling and sides, but he ignored the pain. After growing up in the wide-open plains of Alderaan and being a pilot for all of his career, being stuck in a hole with barely five inches of ceiling above him and literally no room for him to push his arms outwards, he started to feel claustrophobic.

“Calm down,” a rubbery feeling pressed against his arm and he looked up to see one of Akiba’s wide-fish eyes staring at him. A sense of calm washed over him, muting the claustrophobia. He nodded, not realizing that his breathing had become a bit hyperventilated and hurried.

Forcing himself to stay calm, he watched as she got the tools she had on her belt, ignoring a flare of pain that raked up his right arm as she accidentally scratched him with a drill bit and moved them to start tapping on the walls. Little flakes of dust rose into the cramped, stale air, and he forced himself to breathe past the dust, noting that the outside of his breather mask was starting to get covered by the dust.

He grabbed his tools, worming his way around the belt, and silently cursing the fact that he had put most of the tools in front of him, which were now digging into his thighs and stomach a bit painfully.

“What are we supposed to dig for?” he asked as he tapped another spot next to Akiba’s.

“There are some precious minerals down here, but mostly our own graves,” she replied, scratching out a shiny looking object. She held it towards him and he nodded.

“Then why don’t the workers just lounge in the holes?” he asked.

“Try staying still with your hands for a few minutes…you will know why…” she replied as she continued to chip away little bits and pieces of rock.

He looked at her, puzzled before he could feel it even after a few seconds. A numbing feeling of cold that had already crawled into his legs, was working their way up his fingers. So even it was worthless to dig in the tunnels, it was still a way to keep warm without dying from the freezing cold.

“How do you keep the legs warm?” he asked, trying to move his feet and accidentally kicking Akiba’s legs. “Sorry…”

“No worries,” she replied, before gently kicking him back, “just be careful where you kick. The rocks in here are highly unstable and any large jolting force can bring them down on you.”

“Are there earthquakes here?” he asked.

“Yes, but they are small rumbles…but they do end up crushing a few people within the tunnels. This one still hasn’t collapsed yet, partially because I think of the rock density,” she tapped part of the wall she was working on, “most of the rocks here are soft compounds…but I found this one a few months ago and have been working on it ever since.”

“You dug all of this?” he was surprised given the fact that the tunnel was quite deep in.

“No,” she looked away, concentrating on her digging. “I had help…”

“I’m…sorry,” he apologized, tapping the part he was working on. He suspected it was probably someone that Akiba knew that had died while helping her.

“I don’t need an apology,” he tone was sharp and he blinked, surprised. Then he squinted his eyes as dust got into them and squeezed them shut to get the dust out. When he opened them again, they were a bit watery.

He opened his mouth to speak again when she looked at him, the top of her head scraping against the ceiling and he closed his mouth, seeing what wasn’t really anger, but more like resentment. “This tunnel is specifically for me to help people. And it was dug to help you.” She turned back to her work, digging out a couple more little shiny stones.

Tycho returned to his work, and the only sound that filled the tunnel was the tapping of their tools against the rocks. He moved his legs slightly, trying to get some warmth and feeling back into them. After a few minutes, it occurred to him what the Mon Cal had said.

“He helped you, didn’t he?” he said in a quiet tone, “that same person you had saved me from…”

A sideways look at her showed that her bulbous eyes were resolutely staring at the site she was working on, but he knew that he had hit the truth of what was going on. He sighed quietly before going back to work, feeling a cramp beginning on his left shin.

* * *

It felt like forever being in that cramped tunnel, but when Akiba told him that it was time to head back out, getting out of that cramped small tunnel was the hard part. Tycho was dismayed to feel that almost half of his body had gone numb from little to no movement and it took a few minutes to get his legs and hips working in a semi-coherent fashion again to wriggle back out of the tunnel with Akiba.

When he finally managed to extricate himself, he stood up on unsteady legs and stumbled a bit. Only with Akiba’s firm grip on his arm prevented him from tumbling over the edge and into the deep, long chasm. He spent the next few minutes doing some squats and shaking his legs out, trying to get the cold feeling away and getting perhaps a sliver of warmth and feeling back into them.

Eventually he noticed that many of the prisoners were also extracting themselves from the tunnels that they had gone into. The stormtroopers came by and started shoving them back into a group before prodding them to start walking back up. He kept his hand on Akiba’s utility belt once more as they headed back up to the surface. He felt so exhausted, cold, and hungry, but knew that they weren’t going to get any other meal.

When they finally reached the room where they had gotten the equipment, Tycho’s legs were already screaming from the pain and cold, especially his right leg. He took off the belt and dumped it with the others before Akiba’s cool hand grabbed onto his arm and dragged him along so he wouldn’t get separated from her as they were shuffled back into the pit-cell.

He was so out of it that he almost didn’t pay attention when someone bumped roughly into him and Akiba, shoving them to the side before grabbing Akiba’s other arm. Tycho immediately started and looked up and saw a man about a few centimeters taller than he was with rakishly good looks and black hair. However, his expression marred the good looking part of him as he had a possessive look to his wide eyes and a smile that Tycho did not like one bit. It was the look of a man who had found his prey and was savoring the moment.

“Akiba…good to see you again,” the man looked dusty from his time in the tunnels, but otherwise, strong and healthy…

“What do you want Davion?” Akiba shook off the man’s arm, but he looped it around again. Tycho hung in the back, still holding onto the Mon Cal’s sleeve, making himself look uninterested and dead to the world, but his ears were sharply paying attention to every word that was said.

“I see you’re enjoying your new little pet,” the comment was directed at Tycho but he pretended not to hear it and instead kept his gaze lowered to the ground.

“He is a friend and treat him so,” Akiba replied sharply, “and let go of me!”

“As you wish, my dear,” Davion replied, “just remember…you owe me.”

“I owe you nothing. Leave me,” she shot back.

Davion’s sinister laugh echoed from further up the group and Tycho finally looked up to see anger in Akiba’s eyes. One of her finned hands was curled and she was trembling all over. He looked beyond her to see Davion walking with a group of prisoners, some who were scrawny looking, and others who looked to have a bit more muscle and realized that was a leader of one of the factions in the prison.

“Is he the one?” he asked her quietly.

She nodded once just as they entered the pit-cell before she shook off his grip on her sleeve. “I need some time alone.”

She abruptly headed off into a different part of the cell before Tycho could grab onto her again. He watched as she disappeared into sea of humans and aliens before shrugging and headed towards the outcropping he had slept in last night. Perhaps he would talk with this Davion later…

* * *

In a few hours, all the prisoners were settled into sections of the pit, some in factions, others just lying on the ground. There were a few groans from those who had been injured that day to screams of those either getting raped or having passionate sex farther down the pit. All in all, a buzz had filled the pit with people talking or betting on fights that were occurring sporadically.

So when Tycho picked his way through the masses of bodies, he was basically ignored until he reached what was the edge of Davion’s faction…which was a lot of people in between him and Davion. He could see the man sitting in a circle of people, surrounded by a few females, both alien and human who were fawning over him and his bodyguards. And one of those bodyguards met him with a glare and arms folded over his chest.

“Let me pass. I want to talk with Davion,” he said, staring at the taller and heavily built bodyguard. He suspected that based on first glance of the people within the man’s group, that they had connections to the Imperials here…which was why a majority of them looked so healthy compared to the others in the pit.

“No one talks to Davion-“

“Let him pass, Ogun,” Davion’s silky and oily voice startled both of them and the guard hastily moved to the side. Tycho narrowed his eyes as he saw the man gesture for him to come closer.

He did at the utmost reluctant of paces and those in his circle parted widely to allow him through. It was almost as if they feared both him and Davion…or perhaps just Davion. The man stood up as he approached and a wide smile graced his features…the same smile that made the hairs on the back of Tycho’s neck stand up in warning.

“I am Davion, former squad leader of a part of Red Hand Squadron part of the force on Toprawa to deliver the Death Star plans,” he said, sticking out a hand to shake.

Tycho refused to shake the man’s hand instead said, “Tycho Celchu, Captain, Republic Space Force, serial number 68970024.”

“No need for the POW act, Captain,” Davion’s smile cracked just a little as he put his hand away, “we’re all friends here.”

He didn’t say anything and instead watched the man carefully.

“Now,” Davion clasped his hands behind his back, “surely you want something to come all the way here to see me. Is Akiba treating you all right? She did seem terribly rude to you, letting you hold her like a pet.”

“I think it’s your treatment of Akiba Muune that is in question,” Tycho said, “I would ask that you stop, but you aren’t going to listen to me, are you?”

Davion smiled thinly, “You are a sharp one Celchu…perhaps I shouldn’t have made that bargain with the Mon Calamari. You’re an Alderaanian, aren’t you?”

The sudden change in question threw Tycho off and he looked at him, confused. He could feel the day’s aches and pains starting to creep up on him again, but he willfully ignored it, trying to focus on the conversation.

“Ah yes,” Davion nodded mostly to himself, “I would be careful, Captain, in the future. I have connections, you see, to those that keep us captive. Such connections…can be useful…”

“And…?” if there was one thing he learned from Han Solo during their stay on the ice-bound planet of Hoth, it was never to show his hand so early in a game of sabacc…or for anything in that matter. He would pretend to be interested in whatever Davion had offered, after all, he was just collecting information.

“I can offer you protection, offer Akiba protection from the Imperials,” Davion smiled.

“I don’t see the need for such protection,” he shrugged, playing up his ignorance.

“Ah, but there will be a time when such protection is needed,” the way Davion had said it made Tycho suspect something…and it was something he didn’t like.

“Then I’ll consider it for now,” he returned a thin smile of his own before turning around and walking away; Ogun, Davion’s big bodyguard shoving him along and back out into the masses. He could feel Davion’s eyes boring into him as he walked back across the pit to his resting spot and knew that this was only the beginning of something big that was going to happen in his stay at Akrit’tar.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Hmm…I get the feeling that this fic is going to be one of those long-to-be-updated ones. As if you haven’t noticed. Anyways, thank you for those who have long stayed with this fic – your reviews are much appreciated. I will continue this fic, but as you’ve noticed, it will be a while in between updates as other stories take up my time. I was originally going to put Tycho’s stay on Akrit’tar to be short, but my sister and long-time beta-reader of this fic (she’s also the inspiration to write this) told me to expand his stay, hence, the introduction of a new character, Davion. ^_^

 

_Chapter 14_

 

The days blurred into almost one continuous loop of waking, eating protein mush, going digging in the mines, coming back into the prison-pit, sleeping, then waking up again and doing it all over made time seem like an endless loop. But if Tycho had to guess, he would have pegged almost a couple of weeks had gone by since his encounter with Davion. And in that time, the man had just given him looks of amusement to which Akiba had asked him, but he refused to answer. He didn’t need to have her worrying for him, and tried at times, to distance himself from her so that if Davion was planning something, she wouldn’t be caught up in it.

But to his dismay, she would have none of it and insisted that she stay with him, partially because while he was healing from his injuries sustained at his time in Lusankya, he was still not yet acclimated to the real harsh life in the prisons of Akrit’tar. He personally thought that he had been already acclimated to the life on Akrit’tar, but apparently Akiba didn’t think so. He didn’t mind her presence as much, but was constantly worried over her safety. He also kept an eye out for the stormtroopers and officers that watched them as he silently planned his escape. He knew that from where the pit was, there were three entry points – one lead to the mess hall, one lead to the mines, the route which they came back from, and the other was a sure bet that it lead to the Imperials’ quarters. From there, probably the docking bay of this facility.

The route with the most guards was obviously the one to the Imperials’ quarters, but if he could create a distraction in any of the other two routes, then that would draw the guards away. He had a rough estimate on how many troops were stationed here, but only stormtroopers. He didn’t know how many fighters or even cruisers were stationed on this barren rock and that was probably the trickiest part of all if he were to make his escape.

Then there was Akiba…

He knew that if he were to make a successful escape, he couldn’t leave her behind – especially not to the mercies of Davion and his men, nor could he leave her to the Imperials who have probably seen him in her company ever since he arrived in this godforsaken planet. She would be brutally tortured if he left her behind.

The Mon Calamari had been right in saying that the tools on their belts weren’t sharp enough to be used as weapons, but Tycho had an idea. He had been taking the same drill bit he had been using for the past week or so, making sure that he always got his hands on the same belt whenever they headed into the mines. Sharpening it in the cramped hole he shared with Akiba, he was slowly sharpening it into a file of sorts instead of a pointed weapon. He didn’t want any of the guards who inspected their belts afterwards to notice what he was doing.

During that time, Akiba had given him sidelong glances at what he was doing, but didn’t say anything. Now, as he held up the tool in the dim lamp light that lit up the small hole, a wiry smile turned up on the corners of his face.

“Sharp enough?” Akiba asked and he glanced at her, not surprised at how close their faces were to each other. He had long gotten used to that fact and knew that his old self would have blushed to be in such proximity to a woman, no matter alien or not. But Akiba was a good friend, a comrade, and most of all, someone he could trust.

“I hope so…” he replied, before tapping the flat head of the tool against the wall, his fingers a bit numb from the cold, letting some of the fine dust on it flake off and settle to the ground.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked, the first time she had said anything remotely about what he had been doing.

“Stab a stormtrooper in the neck and grab his blaster, then hope to the Force that the crowd of prisoners will surge up and overpower our captors,” he said. He knew that his plan would have casualties, but based on his observations and chats with some of the prisoners that he worked the shifts with, they would be willing to do anything for a chance at freedom. It was only Davion and his men that worried him. The former Red Hand Squadron member had said that he had Imperial connections…so did that mean that he would help out the stormtroopers and fire upon the other prisoners if he led a revolt?

“You’ll be seen, and most likely be shot that way,” Akiba frowned through her breather mask, “don’t throw your life away so foolishly.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Tycho asked a bit irritated.

“Let me do it,” the Mon Calamari replied, giving him a half-smile.

“You’re most likely to be shot than I am if you do it,” Tycho frowned.

“You forget,” she suddenly lifted the tool from his fingers, hovering it in front of their eyes with the Force, “you said so yourself, I have the Force.”

“But you didn’t believe me back then!” he protested, confused.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” she replied before guiding the tool back into his fingers.

“Why did you help me then?”

“Like I said, my hunches told me that you were someone I could trust and help, that these hunches told me that you would need my help when you arrived here,” she replied as if it was the simplest explanation in the world.

Tycho minutely shook his head, not understanding what she said…it was almost like listening to Luke a few times when he talked about certain things about the Jedi. He didn’t get some of what Luke said, but implicitly trusted his former commander and friend. But what Akiba was saying…

“You’re not trained are you?” he wondered if she really was who she claimed to be, a prisoner of war since the Battle for Endor…

She laughed lightly, a bubbly-water filled laugh that sound musical to his ears. “Jedi trained? No...”

“Then how-?”

“I met Luke Skywalker shortly after he returned from Cloud City. He sensed the Force within me and taught me a few rudimentary exercises he learned. He asked if I wanted to join him after the war was over to rebuild the Jedi Order and I accepted…”

“Until you were sent here,” Tycho finished for her, finally understanding some of the mystery that surrounded Akiba.

“I know I’m not that strong with the Force, but I also know that the Force has told me that I was meant to help you. I can feel your connection to Jedi Skywalker,” she replied.

Tycho didn’t know how to reply to someone whom he had only met a couple of weeks ago who basically had sacrificed her mind and body to help him. What could he say?

Akiba must have seen the appalled expression on his face before she shook her head slightly, “Don’t worry about me, Tycho, worry about how you will escape after this.” She motioned for him to slip out of the tunnel and he realized their shift was almost at an end. If was going to act, now would be the time. Slipping the sharpened tool back into its pouch, he painfully slid out of the compact tunnel-hole and carefully stood up, making sure that he would windmill into the abyss behind him as he stretched his cramped muscles and tried to warm up.

Feeling as warmed up as he could he reached his hand out to help Akiba up and she did a few stretches before gesturing for him to follow her as they made their way back to where the line of prisoners were gathering, the bright white stormtrooper armor a beacon.

They shuffled into the crowd that was slowly moving up back up to the holding room and Tycho slowly removed the latch that had been holding onto his tool, his other hand keeping Akiba’s webbed ones in his own. Making sure his gaze was nonchalantly focused on something else, he could feel the lessening of a small weight on his belt and knew that Akiba was using the Force to slowly draw it out and hover it into the air.

He waited until they were within the center of the crowd of prisoners before he squeezed Akiba’s hand, a signal for her to act. Suddenly the stormtrooper nearest to them yelped and gurgled before his hand slapped to his neck, the distinct handle of the small tool poking out from he neck.

The cramped room broke out into chaos.

The prisoners surged, seeing as an opportunity to escape or attack their captors and the stormtroopers and guards drew out their blasters and stared firing wildly into the crowd. Screams filled the air along with the smell of charred flesh and somewhere, Tycho lost his grip on Akiba’s hand as he was pulled along by the surging crowd.

He fought his way towards the exit of the room, towards where the three forks lead, trying to make his way towards the fork that lead to the Imperials’ quarters but it was tough. The crowd of prisoners were scared, some running the opposite way, others still surging towards the stormtroopers who were still firing away. He ducked under a stray bolt that whizzed past his head before another one caught a hapless woman in the back, pitching her towards him, knocking him to the ground.

Tycho threw up his hands to prevent himself from being trampled over before he was boldly lifted up from the ground and lowered his arms slightly to stare into the blank face of a stormtrooper who suddenly threw him against the retreating crowd before aiming his blaster carbine at him.

His eyes widened of their own accord at the blaster pointed at him. A million thoughts flitted through his head as he realized that he was going to die…and only one stayed with him. _Winter…_

The trooper squeezed the trigger-

“What in the name of the Empire is going on here?!” a loud booming voice shouted above the din, silencing everyone save for a few moans of those who were injured.

“Prisoner revolt, sir,” the stormtrooper that had almost shot him turned around and saluted the officer who appeared before them.

Tycho stared at the officer…a vague feeling of recognition shooting through him. He knew the officer…knew his narrow jaw line and those piercing eyes that raked over him and the other prisoners with disdain.

“One of my men was stabbed with a tool that was apparently sharpened, sir,” the trooper explained.

“And pray tell, how did you let this happen?” the officer sneered.

The trooper was silent before another voice within the crowd spoke up, bringing Tycho’s head around.

“It was her, sir,” Davion spoke up before dragging a battered looking Akiba next to him, the crowd of prisoners shrinking away, wanting nothing to do with what was going on. “She threw the weapon that killed one of your troopers.”

“Oh?” the senior officer, a Captain, Tycho noted, raised an eyebrow, “very well then, bring her forward.”

Tycho knew that whatever the Captain was planning, it would be bad. He stood up, “No! It was me. I threw the tool that killed that trooper.”

That brought everyone’s gaze upon him and he refused to blink as the Captain’s cold gaze pierced him. The familiar feeling that he should know this man crept up him again, and he raised his chin in defiance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Akiba shaking her head, trying to warn him away.

“That Mon Cal was next to me when it happened. She had nothing to do with this,” he said, marveling at how steady his voice was when moments before, a blaster was pointed at his face.

“Really…” the Captain said skeptically, before waving his hands to two of the stormtroopers who dragged him up onto his feet, “take him…and the alien scum.”

Before he could further protest a painful blow to the side of his head knocked him out and he fell limply into the arms of his captors.

* * *

Wedge knew he looked like a mess. With an unshaven stubble two-days old thick, he knew he would have to shave soon, especially if Admiral Ackbar or General Cracken called for him. It had been nearly a month since he and Winter had found out Tycho was missing, presumed dead from his mission to Courscant.

Over the course of the last few weeks, he had slowly notified the rest of the former Rogues, all whom had expressed sadness and frustration at the death of one of their own. In ways, he was glad that they weren’t a part of the Rogues anymore; he couldn’t walk in on a briefing to see so many sad faces, so much morale lost.

He had also heard a rumor that Winter had let the Alderaanian council and Princess Leia know of Tycho’s presumed death and that the Alderaanians were preparing a rather large memorial to honor one of their fallen heroes.

He was going to ask Winter if he could speak at the memorial, but was told by Kapp Dendo, the Devonarian partner she occasionally worked with that she had been reassigned to analyze the data Tycho had successfully transmitted back before he went missing and wasn’t available to talk. He also heard from Kapp that Cracken had suspended all missions regarding the whereabouts of Syal Antilles, especially since Fel went missing. The Devonarian also told him that they were preparing steps to launch a major offensive towards Courscant and so when Admiral Ackbar finally granted his approval to reform the squadron, Luke’s campaign having wrapped up at least three weeks ago, he had jumped at the opportunity to shove the thoughts of his lost best friend to the back of his mind.

Now he had been staring at the hundreds of applications he had received from those who wanted to join the Rogues. While he would have liked to grab all the old Rogues back together, he knew that their skills were needed elsewhere and had first told those that had reapplied that Ackbar wanted a squadron that was going to be built on a multitude of various skills. In fact, the Admiral had sent him a specific list of what he wanted the new squadron to be composed of and Wedge realized that Ackbar was going to use them to the fullest extent and also to spearhead the campaign to retake Courscant.

Even though he had accepted the fact that his best friend was missing, he couldn’t accept the fact that Tycho was dead…and blinked in surprise as he moved a file from the pile only to reveal the Alderaanian’s which he had originally buried deep beneath the large pile of files. A surprising anger filled him and he quickly took the file and shoved it in a file drawer.

Slamming the drawer close, Wedge folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against his chair. Rubbing his eyes with his wrists tiredly, he didn’t know why that brief shot of anger had filled him. He had seen many of his friends die time and time again, fighting the empire, so why did Tycho’s death disturb him? He had seen Porkins, Biggs, Dack, Commander Narra, and many others die…

With a start and a painful banging of his knee against his desk, he realized that he didn’t accept Tycho’s death because there was no body, no evidence; just the fact that he had been listed as missing, presumed dead. He had seen others shot down in the cockpits of their fighters, seen them shot by stormtroopers…and like his surrogate uncle, Booster Terrik had said, no body meant no evidence that a person was truly dead.

With a fresh wave of determination, he hunched over his desk again, checking the roster list he had started composing. He knew how to reform the squadron. This new Rogue Squadron was going to be a squadron where when they were going to attack the Imperial Center, they would also help find Tycho and bring him home. This was going to be a team where no one was left behind, and no one would end up missing, presumed dead. This was going to be the squadron that did the impossible…

And wherever Tycho was, he knew that his best friend would be proud.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Kind of a short chapter…this story is nearing the end of its second part (next chapter will be the end of the second part). And I realized it was a short second part, but I hope I detailed it enough so that you, the readers, get a feel for what Tycho’s life was like for the past few months he had been captive. ^_^ Enjoy!

 

_Chapter 15_

 

Tycho called it foolish pride, or at least the decency to try to protect a female and the foolish pride had gotten both him and Akiba in trouble. His mind fuzzily rose to consciousness as he heard the distant screams of someone being tortured. The screaming got louder and louder until he finally cracked opened his eyes and to his horror he saw the blurry image of what looked like Akiba, lying on the ground, a small pool of dark black-red blood surrounding her.

A scream erupted from her lips before she coughed out more blood, curling to the side and his he realized that someone was beating her up, badly. He tried to move, coming fully awake, and glanced up to see that he had been bound against the wall, restraints holding him in place.

He pulled against the restraints, trying to somehow break them, but they didn’t budge. Another scream came from Akiba, this one ending weakly and his gut wrenched in a mixture of anger and anguish. “She’s got nothing to do with this!” he yelled, once again pulling against his restraints which held his arms up.

The person that had been beating Akiba up finally turned and with a start of horror, he realized that it was none other than Davion. “Ah, you’re awake Celchu,” he said, staring at him, “I told you that you should watch your back.”

“Stop it!” Tycho felt a desperation inside of him, “she’s done nothing!”

“Ah, but she has,” the man replied, nudging her limp body with a booted toe, “she’s helped you.”

“We’re on the same side! Why are you doing this?!” Tycho asked, pulling against his restraints even though it was a futile attempt to free himself.

“Do you honestly think that Davion here has been your ally all along, Celchu?” a new voice said and he turned his head to see the familiar looking Captain standing a bit away, a sadistically amused smile on his face.

“I know you…” Tycho struggled with his memories, trying to place the mysterious Captain and saw the smile widen further.

“You honestly don’t remember, do you,” the Captain stepped forward, ignoring neither the feeble moans of pain coming from Akiba nor the faint buzz of the vibrodagger that had just activated in Davion’s hands.

“Please…” Tycho could hear his own voice cracking as he realized what Davion was going to do with the vibrodagger, “stop it. She had nothing to do with killing that stormtrooper! It was all mine. I threw it, I killed him!” A stray thought floated through the back of his mind, the thought that he had been broken so badly, to the point where he was begging…

“Still, you have been seen in her company a lot,” the Captain leered, “perhaps trading carnal favors? If so…watching her right now would stab you through the heart wouldn’t it Celchu?”

Davion snickered unpleasantly and knelt down next to Akiba’s prone form. His vibrodagger began to slash through whatever remained of her clothing, exposing her naked body, the bruises that littered her salmon colored skin, the blood seeping through her wound flowing more freely now not hampered by cloth.

“No…” Tycho closed his eyes in anguish as Davion unbuckled his pants, lowering them slightly before he forced himself on Akiba, making her scream in pain from the pressure he was putting on her and on her wounds. He wanted to close his ears, cowardly as it was for him to do so, but he didn’t want to see nor hear her being raped.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case…

His eyes flew open once again as he suddenly cried out, a painful electrical jolt running through his body making him convulse against his bonds.

Just as suddenly the shock stopped and he slumped against his restraints, his breath coming in heavy, his ears ringing from the aftermath mixed with the shriek of terror and pain from Akiba. He looked up to the Captain who now had a electrical prod in his hand, a nasty smirk on his face and suddenly, a memory clicked in Tycho’s head.

He remembered who this man was. This was the man that had delivered him to Lusankya, to Isard’s lair. The man who had transported him from Lusankya to this barren waste of a planet called Akrit’tar. He vaguely remembered that this man’s presence had been near him during his fuzzy memories of Lusankya…and pain had been associated with his presence.

A quiet rage that had been filling him ever since his imprisonment on Lusankya rose up to the surface of his thoughts. The words fell from his mouth sounded even alien to the rational part of him, but his anger made him see red. “I’ll kill you!” he screamed, pulling hard against his restraints, trying to lunge himself at Captain Falco Avin. “I’ll kill you!”

Even the Captain was not prepared for such an outburst and backed away at the sight of a very pissed and angry Tycho Celchu, his electrical prod held forward, as if to ward him away, but Tycho strained his muscles against his restraints, trying to break free of them.

“I’ll kill you, you sick son of a sithspawn kriffing bitch!” Tycho didn’t seem to be aware that his anger had startled Davion who had lifted himself off of Akiba, and was now staring at him, something akin to fear on his face.

On the ground, next to him, the Mon Calamari’s pool of blood had grown larger and Tycho barely noticed that her eyes were glazed more than usual, and her breathing was shallow, her breasts rising up and down just a bit too slowly. Instead, he was focused on Avin, letting all of his murderous hate and rage fill him. He would pay…all of them including that sick man Davion would pay…

_I give you…my last gift…Tycho…_

Akiba’s voice in his head startled the anger out of Tycho and briefly lifted the red veil that had fallen over his eyes as he glanced over to where Akiba laid and saw her eyes dim before the life vanished out of them. It was also then that he felt the click of his left-hand’s restraint break…and he realized that she had died…using the last of whatever small power she had in the Force to give him the opportunity to free himself.

Davion and Avin noticed his gaze upon Akiba and both turned before the former Rebel nudged her limp body with a booted toe, a disgusted expression on his face. “Oh…she’s dead,” he said in a simple voice, “too bad…can’t kriff with a dead body, I guess…”

That last comment sent the anger that had been knocked away briefly by Akiba’s voice right back into the core of Tycho’s being, but this time, he could feel that it was a different anger. This anger was a righteous one, and he would avenge the Mon Calamari who had sacrificed her life for him. An inhuman yell escaped his lips as he ripped his left hand out of the broken restraint and swung around; grabbing a blaster one of the two stormtroopers standing next to him had and pressed the trigger.

A red bolt lanced into the trooper’s side and he fell to the ground, dead. Tycho took advantage of the surprise move and turned the blaster upon the other troop, shooting the soldier in the eyepiece. The second trooper fell to the ground before he quickly readjusted his grip and pointed the weapon at the restraint holding his right wrist up and shot at it.

A brief flash of pain tore through his hand as part of the blaster bolt singed his skin and some of the broken debris of what was once the restraint shattered onto his hand, embedding themselves into his skin, but he ignored it and instead, hefted the blaster and pointed it at Captain Avin who backed up, terror plastered across his face.

“D-Don’t shoot…I’m unarmed…p-please, don’t s-shoot!” Avin dropped the electro-prod in shock and fear before holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender as Tycho stepped forward a menacing look on his face.

“You…” he started in a dark voice, “had me imprisoned, tortured…confined, electrocuted. Why should I let you live?”

“P-Please! You’re an Alderaanian, aren’t you? Y-You’re supposed to be pacifists!!”

Tycho grunted in dark laughter before he fired two shots in the man, one hitting his naval, the other hitting his head, dropping him to the ground like stone. “I’m somewhat of a black sheep amongst my people,” he muttered before he turned, his eyes searching for Davion.

He saw the tail end of the man fleeing from the detention area he had been held in and raised his blaster to get off a few shots, but they just hit the plaster wall, sending flakes of debris everywhere. He cursed silently under his breath before he realized that he would have to make his escape soon. The guards, if not alerted by Davion, would be alerted by the sounds of blaster fire coming from where he was.

Running across the room, he stopped abruptly as he ran past Akiba’s body and the anger that had filled him drained away as he stared at the body, his blaster hanging limply from his fingers. Walking slowly over, he knelt down by her still opened eyes and gently closed the lids on them. She could have been one of Luke’s newest Jedi recruits, but instead, found herself gunned down in the midst of an imperial prison.

“I’m sorry, Akiba,” he whispered, “I should have never gotten you involved.”

Seeing that there was nothing around he could cover her body with, he shook his head and got up. As he headed out of the detention area, he only wished there was more he could do. But he would make her sacrifice as a means for him to get off this pit of a planet.

He slid along the metallic wall, letting his ears, still sensitive from the electrical shock he had received only moments earlier, but attuned enough so that he could hear the booted feet of stormtroopers running past him in an intersecting hallway. There were no signs that pointed out which direction he was going, but Tycho hoped that he was headed to the hanger bay at least. The halls looked vaguely familiar in ways, almost as if they were designed like an imperial star destroyer’s halls.

If so, he mused to himself as he peeked out and quietly ran to another adjacent hall, then the direction he was going was definitely towards a hanger bay. After a few minutes of ducking into random hallways to avoid the patrols and occasional mouse droid that skittered along the corridors he breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped past a bulkhead only to see the vast expanse of Akrit’tar’s hanger bay.

Crouching low, he slid up to a bunch of crates stacked in one of the corners and peered out, trying to figure out which fighter sitting in the bay was his best hope for getting him off this rock. There were a few bombers and fighters in the bay, but a few of the interceptors caught his eye. They looked like the older models, ones with little to no shields, but definitely a lot of speed to them…and he needed speed to get himself out of here.

Suddenly a wail of alarms began blaring overhead and Tycho knew that Davion had successfully convinced whoever was in charge of the prison that he had escaped. Or they had found the bodies of the stormtrooper and Captain Avin. Either way, he knew that he had to move.

Deciding to take an interceptor he moved quickly behind crates and various objects, trying to keep himself as low of a profile as possible and also not to attract the attention of the pilot that was coming out of the interceptor he planned to hijack. He was nearly successful until he ran over a mouse droid that he hadn’t seen skittering across the hanger bay, startling both him and the pilot he had been about to ambush.

The pilot spun around, his hands gripping his helmet tightly and Tycho saw that the pilot was no more than just a kid…a teenager really. He raised his blaster so that it was pointed straight at the kid’s head. “Don’t move or I will shoot you…”

“Please…don’t shoot…” the pilot looked nervous, “it’s just my first tour…I mean-“

“Shut up,” Tycho said harshly, and the pilot’s mouth clamped shut, his eyes wide with fear. “Step away from the cockpit slowly,” he motioned with his blaster and the pilot complied, “make like you’re doing something.”

“S-Sir?”

“If you don’t want to die, do as I say,” he ordered before the kid bent down to a pile of tools and picked at it, looking at them with far more interest than one normally showed.

Tycho kept his eye on the kid as he moved towards the interceptor’s ladder. “Good,” he said quietly before flipping the switch on his blaster and fired off a stun shot that enveloped the young pilot and dropped him to the ground. Wasting no time, he scrambled up the ladder just as the shouts of technicians and other pilots who had heard the crashing of tools falling to the ground started to jog over, wondering what the commotion was about.

Tycho quickly seated himself in the interceptor’s cockpit and threw his blaster to the back of his seat. Buckling in the crash webbing, he flipped on the switches to warm up the engines and heard the familiar whine of its twin ion engines rumble to life. In the bubble-like hemisphere of the cockpit he could see that some of the other pilots had already started to gather, shouting at him, blasters pointed at him for him to come out.

He ignored them and finished his pre-flight check before his hands gripped the throttle and he pushed forward. The interceptor sprang to life and shot him out of the hanger bay and into the bright skies of Akrit’tar. He squinted against the light for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted to the glare, having been underground for so long, and glanced down at his targeting visual.

There were at least four TIEs or so that had gotten up in the air and he suspected that there was probably more coming. He glanced at his navicomputer and punched in a few coordinates. He didn’t know if the Fleet had moved since his imprisonment and he didn’t know how long it had been since his capture, but he hoped that they were still in the same spot as when he left them.

He suddenly broke left as laser bolts flashed past his cockpit before juking right to avoid another barrage.

“This is Akrit’tar patrol, stand down or you will be shot down!” the static buzz of an imperial pilot crackled through his comm. systems, but Tycho hit the off button to ignore whatever the man had to say.

He glanced at his navicomputer again…only a few more seconds to go before the calculations to the coordinates were done. He pulled back on the stick and watched as the stars spun around him bringing him around to the rear of one of his pursuers. Triggering a burst of fire, he blasted one of the fighters to pieces before throwing himself to the right again as more lasers tried to target him.

Finally his navicomputer beeped a confirmation of the coordinates and he punched the button to activate the interceptor’s hyperdrive. The stars elongated themselves and he shot into hyperspace.

* * *

One wouldn’t usually expect a woman such as Ysanne Isard to enjoy the simplest pleasures of life, such as reading the latest news from the Holonet, but then again, there were times when people could be surprised.

The beeping of an incoming Priority One message brought Isard out of her musings on the latest news regarding the propaganda the Rebels had fed out, declaring that General Skywalker had been successful in his campaign in the Milagro System. She pushed a button on her work station’s console and stared blankly at the harried image of the commander of the Akrit’tar prison base.

“Madam Director,” the commander spluttered, “we have a problem.”

“I can see that,” she replied dryly.

“Its…the prisoner, you see…the one…you sent to us from,” he gulped visibly, “Lusankya…”

Inwardly, Isard raised a mental eyebrow. News about Celchu? This was far more interesting than reading about Rebel propaganda. From the weekly reports she had been receiving from Captain Avin regarding Celchu, she had been pleased with the results. Even though she had considered Celchu to be a failure through her program, she knew that his stay on Akrit’tar would perhaps rehabilitate him enough so that when he was brought back to her facility for a second attempt at programming, he would be completely successful.

“H-He’s…escaped, Madam Director,” the commander quivered.

A cold anger filled Isard at the words and she directed her malevolent gaze towards the cowering fool who was in charge of the prison base. “Escaped.”

“Yes…ma’am. W-We think he’s attempting to head back to the Rebels…I have sent orders to the _Victorious_ and _Adelphus_ to track his coordinates and hunt him and the rebels down.”

“Belay that order, Commander,” an idea started to form in her head as she realized she could use this to her advantage. “Let him escape.”

“Ma’am?”

“You have your orders,” she abruptly cut the comm. and patched a secure call through to one of her most trusted agents.

“I’m here, Madam Director,” the agent’s voice was male and a monotone, a by product of what had happened when she reprogrammed him. Though his true self couldn’t really understand what was happening, as if he had been forced to sleep, the agent personality she had molded was quick to respond.

“You have an AT3 directive to give to the Commander,” she said, “then you will wait.”

“As ordered,” the connection abruptly died but Isard wasn’t finished yet.

She patched another secure call through and this time an image appeared one of a woman who had shocking white hair and aristocratic features. “Grania.”

“Ma’am,” the woman replied, “I am at your service.”

“I need you to meet with another agent of mine. His name is Kirtan Loor. You will coordinate with him to bring down the rebel cell that is currently there.”

“Ma’am,” she bowed her head slightly before her image faded away, leaving Isard alone again.

A crooked smile worked its way up her face and she glanced out into the setting sun of the Imperial Center. Things were going as planned.

* * *

It took at least two jumps before Tycho’s interceptor actually reached the edges of the Alliance Fleet, but by the second jump, the Alderaanian was already unconscious, having succumbed to his wounds and now his fighter drifted through space, sending a distress beacon, calling out Champion Squadron who had been doing patrol runs throughout the fleet.

They secured the interceptor and dragged it back to _Home One_ with tow cables, both pilots of Champion Squadron not realizing who it was that sat in the cockpit of the TIE. General Cracken had been notified immediately as soon as the TIE had appeared on the long range sensors of the capital ships and was waiting for the two Champion pilots to settle their load onto the hanger deck. All unnecessary personnel had already been cleared and as soon as the two Champion pilots unhooked their tow cables, they took off with explicit orders from General Salm to continue their patrols.

Cracken was eager to see who was the bold TIE pilot, but he also knew that the fighter could be a trap.

“Its clear sir,” one of the technicians holding a scanner had held it up towards the immobile ship, doing an initial check to see if there were any traces of explosives.

He nodded to the other techs that had attached a ladder and were climbing up to force the cockpit open. From his vantage point, he could see that the TIE pilot wasn’t wearing any helmet of sorts and was clearly unconscious, which left him puzzled. As one of the technicians scrambled inside and started to unstrap the pilot’s unconscious body from his crash webbing before dragging him out, Cracken’s eyes narrowed. He could see that parts of the pilot’s flightsuit were heavily tattered, ripped in places…

And then when the technician eased himself and the pilot out onto the ladder, Cracken’s eyes widened in surprise. _By the Force…!_

Even with bruises littering his face, Airen Cracken recognized the face of the unconscious pilot. The pilot they all thought had died on Courscant…the one that had been missing for so long, only to come home, severely battered.

Tycho Celchu, son of Alderaan had finally made it home.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Six plus years in the making and I wanted to write that last sentence when I first wrote this story. Of course, it’s not over yet folks! We’re now on to the third part, which details Tycho’s recovery and how High Command reluctantly lets him become part of Rogue Squadron once more.

 

_Chapter 16_

 

The steady dripping of liquids going through an IV band was rhythmic, soothing, and somehow, made Tycho feel at peace. He could tell it was an IV band because of an acute pain that was pressed against his left wrist. The next feeling was that a rather large fuzzy cotton had been shoved into his mouth and his throat was very parched and dry. He slowly cracked open his eyes, and blinked a few times to clear up the blurry vision he had when he first opened them.

Slowly, the medical room he had been placed in came into focus and he looked around. For reasons unknown, a slow welling of panic filled him as he looked around…part of him demanded to know if this was a trap and another part of him was puzzled as to why he would think the medical room was a setting for a trap.

“Good evening Captain,” the gentle modulated voice of a Two-OneBee droid suddenly spoke up to his left and his eyes darted to see its blue clamshell head glancing down at him before looking around to the monitors that surrounded him.

It was then that he finally noticed that not only was his wrist hooked up to an IV drip, his body was covered with different diodes and wires connecting him to various electronic equipment. And part of him realized that some of the equipment weren’t really for medical purposes…

Putting that thought in the back of his head, he instead focused on the droid who made a few notes a data center near his bed. “Where…” he croaked out before clearing his throat, “where…am I?”

“Medical bay, room 1138, aboard _Home One_ sir,” the droid replied before moving over and handing him a small bottle of water with a sip-straw on the end. Tycho’s lips took the proffered straw and he sucked greedily on the water before the droid pulled the straw out and placed the bottle back on a small end table.

“Thank you,” he replied grateful that his throat didn’t hurt as much anymore and the cotton-like feeling within them was starting to dissipate.

“Sir,” the droid tilted its head in acknowledgement, “if you are well enough, General Cracken would like to see you.”

“Cracken?” Tycho blinked before wincing as flashes of various images flitted through his head. He saw what looked like a mission file he had been handed…the bright streets of a bustling city…mismatched blue and red eyes that had a malicious look to them…

“Sir, sir,” he didn’t realize that the OneBee droid had been calling to him until he blinked and stared at the droid.

“Y-Yeah…I’m fine…” he said, feeling a bit shaky.

“Are you sure sir?”

Tycho nodded, suppressing a grimace. He didn’t understand why his memories were so fuzzy…he knew he had been sent on a mission to Courscant…but what had happened afterwards, he couldn’t exactly remember.

A few minutes later, after the medical droid had left, the door to his room hissed open and the familiar form of General Airen Cracken walked in. Tycho made a move to salute and sit upright when his whole body exploded in pain, protesting the movement he was trying to complete. He barely managed to keep himself from yelping out in front of the general, but was only half successful in keeping the grimace of pain off of his face.

“Don’t worry about moving, Captain,” he glanced up at the General who gave him a smile and held up a hand to prevent him from doing anything else, “I’m surprised that you wanted to see me since you’ve just woken up.”

Tycho leaned back against his pillows, feeling very odd that he wasn’t sitting up and facing the General and instead, was staring at him while lying down. The pain was starting to ebb away and he let himself relax slightly, only moments later, frown at the General’s words.

“The droid said that _you_ wanted to see me,” he said, confused.

The General stared at him for a few seconds before nodding, “Good to know that your brain hasn’t addled in your time away from us.”

“Sir?” Tycho felt confused and in that confusion he could feel a slight bit of panic well up. He didn’t know the source of the panic, but it made him feel scared for some odd reason. He knew that he had no reason to be scared of the General. He forced himself to relax instead of causing more pain to his already protesting body.

… _He had already tasted the blood in his mouth, and breathing in its coppery scent was an old habit right now as his cheek slipped slightly from the red crimson streaks that was already there…_

… _A flash of a white hair and sparkling green eyes flashed across his vision and Tycho attempted to shake his head, but everything hurt…_

… _Musty and damp was what the place smelled like. Its deep earth-enriching sense reminded him of his times in his family’s Crevasse City estate…_

… _The scream was inhuman…_

“-to which we found your TIE drifting…Captain?” fingers suddenly snapped in front of his eyes, startling him from the surge of memories and he blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus on General Cracken’s weathered face. It was also then that he realized he his breath came in short gasps and the monitors hooked up to him were beeping like crazy.

Suddenly a mask of pure oxygen was shoved over his mouth and nose and for a split second, Tycho tried to fight it off before he forced himself to remember that he was in Alliance care, not in that horrid prison or-

His thoughts suddenly ran into a blank wall and he realized that he knew he had been tortured, and from the way his body was reacting to everything, it was a very bad and probably long torture…but enough that he couldn’t remember where he had been tortured…

… _Lusankya…_

The name whispered like a lover’s kiss in his mind and he hadn’t realized that he had spoken it out loud until he saw Cracken’s eyes widen like saucers and the General stepped back before staring at him with shrewd narrowed eyes.

“Captain, are you all right?”

Tycho could see the suspicion hidden in the man’s eyes even though he tried hard to contain his surprise and knowledge of what he had just said. Somehow, a part of him knew that this was real, and no matter what, he would not submit to another round of Iceheart’s tortures even if it was a simulation – the thought of that puzzled him for a second- even if it was fake.

“I…was at Lusankya…” he said quietly, a part of him alarmed that he sounded so cool and detached, like his body wasn’t his own, before flashes of images started to appear before his eyes. He could feel tendrils of pain crawling up and down his skin, touching every fiber of his nerves. The well of panic that he had felt earlier returned full force and he tried to scrunch his protesting body up together as much as he could, trying to will the pain away.

… _Lusankya…Lusankya…Lusankya…_

The name whispered like a horrid chant in his mind, tormenting him, and he could see flashes of molten red, then icy blue…

… _Lusankya…LUSANKYA…LUSANKYA…LUSANKYA…_

Then just as suddenly, he was thrown into a blissful blackness…and drifted…

* * *

General Airen Cracken prided himself on not reacting to the direst of situations and maintaining a level, cool head during the worst crisis. He had flown through the Death Star as one of the gunners of the _Millennium Falcon_ , keeping his cool as Lando Calrissian and Nien Nunb flew through the harrowing and narrow corridors of the space station to reach the core and back out, barely escaping the flames of the dying station.

But now, watching the sudden calmness of Tycho Celchu turn into a frenzied, hyper-induced panic attack disturbed him. No, it was more than disturbing, it worried him. Worried him to see a man he knew to be strong, cool, calm, and an efficient growing leader within the New Republic, reduced to something as trivial as this…a panic-attacked man who had been tortured in Lusankya, Isard’s little house of horrors, and possibly broken.

He nodded to the Two-OneBee droid who knocked Celchu out, the man’s shivering and convulsing body suddenly falling limp before all of his shrieking monitors returned to their normal state. “Please keep me informed and let me know the next time he wakes,” he informed the droid.

“Sir, it would be advisable to keep Captain Celchu sedated for a while. His brain scans indicate that he had suffered from both mental and physical trauma,” the OneBee droid replied.

“It would, but we want him to heal naturally. Keeping him sedated would probably enhance the mental trauma that he had suffered,” he replied, “plus I would like to question him some more.”

“Yes sir,” the OneBee droid nodded once before adjusting the flow of one of the nutrient IV and returned to monitoring the unconscious Alderaanian.

Cracken left the room and made a beeline towards Admiral Ackbar’s quarters. It was a good thing that he hadn’t told Commander Antilles or Winter that Tycho had returned yet. He did not want them seeing Captain Celchu in such a state and also he didn’t want anyone finding out that Celchu had spent some time in the company of Iceheart, even though he knew not to trust the man’s words in its entirety. And even if Celchu had spent some time in Lusankya, he was still suspicious. No one from Lusankya ever remembered their time in there, nor did they say the word Lusankya until their act of sabotage was done.

So then why was Celchu muttering about Lusankya and why in such a moment of perfect and calm clarity did he say that he had been in Lusankya…? It was disconcerting to someone like him who was a broker of information and intelligence. Though he wasn’t trained to examine the mind or pick out the inconsistencies as the psychologists the Alliance had within the medical wards, he did have some training to a degree when he had rejected his father’s offer to become a starfighter pilot.

Instead, he had chosen to pursue a career in the more intellectual sense, first as a budding holojournalist in the Imperial Academy on Carida working for the Academy’s holostation, then with his hunger for knowledge turn those skills towards working for Contruum and finally the Rebellion when he couldn’t stand the Imperial propaganda anymore, especially with the Emperor’s announcement of the Jedi Order attempting to assassinate him and scarring him for life.

From what he had learned through life’s lessons, there were two distinctive categories the aliens and humans of the universe fell into. Leaders and followers. While most colored the grey areas of the categories, being both leaders and followers, there were those, especially in the Rebellion, that were most definitely leaders and not followers. Leaders who inspired others, who helped those before they helped themselves and leaders who carried the heart of whatever their cause was. Celchu and almost every member of Rogue Squadron before it had been disbanded, was a leader. Twelve leaders working together for a common goal.

But to see leaders fall in the middle of battle psychologically scarred both followers and other leaders for life. Cracken felt he was witnessing a leader’s fall…and he knew watching Celchu was scarring him; the knife of confidence plunged deep into him and twisting ever so slowly.

He knocked once on Admiral Ackbar’s office before the rubbery Mon Calamari voice told him he could enter. The door hissed open and Cracken didn’t realize he had a deep frown on his face until he saw a warped reflection of his own face in the globe fish tank in Ackbar’s office.

He forced the frown to at least lighten a bit and nodded a greeting to the Mon Calamari Admiral.

“General, what can I do for you?”

“It’s related to the Celchu problem,” currently only a handful of technicians knew that Tycho had returned from his ill-fated mission to Courscant and he made sure if the techs ever breathed a word to anyone they would be shot into space without any trial or due consideration. However, he had also immediately informed Ackbar of Celchu’s return, hoping the two of them could go over what happened to the mission.

This was an intelligence mission he wanted to look at personally and trusted no one else to sift through the data. While he had the data Tycho transmitted out during his two week stay on the city-wide planet, he had now copied those data files to himself along with every recorded conversation he had with his contact, his agent Iella under the guise of being Ella Westerly, forwarded to him.

“Ah,” the Admiral immediately picked up a small device he kept hidden in a cleverly concealed part of a vase near his desk and activated it. After a few seconds, the device blinked a green and the Admiral nodded for him to continue.

“He claims to have been in Isard’s Lusankya facility,” Cracken said, watching the Admiral carefully.

Ackbar was certainly shocked by the news, his already buldging eyes growing wide before his jaw dropped slightly, the barbells twitching in surprise. “Has he said anything else?”

Cracken shook his head, “I would think that Isard did a number on him, he was convulsing rather badly.”

“Or he could have been put through extensive torture and made to hallucinate that he had been in Lusankya. I remember one of the agents who betrayed us was whispering the name after he had blown up the _Reverie_ but it was proven that he had not been in Lusankya like the other agents we’ve found,” Ackbar didn’t look too happy, “and I take it that you came to me to warn me of stormy waters?”

“Have you told them yet?” Cracken raised an eyebrow.

“I was about to, but this, as you say, complicates things. If I tell Commander Antilles his executive officer is still alive, he would want to put him in the new roster he is creating for Rogue Squadron, unless you consider Captain Celchu a security threat to the Fleet?”

“I don’t know,” Cracken rubbed his chin for a moment, “he will definitely have to be debriefed and then we’ll send in a psychologist to analyze him. I was wondering, since you know Luke Skywalker better than I do, if he can come and figure out if Captain Celchu is really a Lusankya agent.”

“A tall order,” Ackbar tilted his head, “but I will see what I can do. General Skywalker’s whereabouts are currently not known to me.”

They both knew that what he had just asked would not be asked for someone who wasn’t as important as Tycho Celchu. The Alderaanian never knew it and probably wouldn’t for the rest of his life, but he was consider to be a symbol to the Rebel Alliance, one of the rare few that could inspire others. In fact, almost the five legendary pilots of Rogue Squadron that had survived Hoth were symbols in their own right.

That was why he took so many precautions…if Celchu was truly a Lusankya spy, then faith and hope in the Rebel Alliance would shatter in an instant.

“I say let Antilles know but make sure you stress to him the importance of not spreading this to anyone. I will let Lady Winter know on my end,” Cracken decided.

“I take it you’re shipping her out on another mission soon, am I not correct General?”

Cracken blinked in surprise at the Admiral’s words before a crooked smile worked its way up his face. “If I thought any less of you then I would have thought that was a grab for my seat.”

“Only our mutual _friend_ Fey’lya does that, General. I only aim to make the waters calm once more,” Ackbar laughed, a rubbery popping sound.

“Yes. You know as well as I do, Courscant is nearly within our grasp. The only piece left in the puzzle is for Rogue Squadron’s final roster to land on your desk.”

“If things are going well with Commander Antilles, I daresay it would be within another month or two before Rogue Squadron can be sent out on its first mission,” Ackbar replied, his expression serious once more.

* * *

Wedge wanted to scream in frustration as he stared at the current list of pilots that had applied to join Rogue Squadron. The conditions he was given beforehand said that he could not accept any former member’s application so that meant telling Wes, Hobbie, and the others that their applications were declined.

And it left him with a giant pile of applications to which he really needed to sort out. He also knew that he have to choose his new executive officer from the same pile. He had gone through most of it in the initial phase, but still there was a lot of pilots that fit the requirements General Cracken and Admiral Ackbar had handed down to him. If they were going to retake Courscant, he didn’t know where to start.

The only thing he knew was that he definitely wanted a squadron of pilots first and foremost. Rogue Squadron was more military than intelligence and there was no way Cracken would get his hands to convert the squadron to an all intelligence unit, not while he was still in command.

He wished Tycho was here, sitting with him, going through all of the files. It was much easier to bounce ideas off of another person, especially someone like him since he was so good at reading others. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair…perhaps he should start by finding a new XO.

There was one Captain Aril Nunb, sister to Nien who had flew with Lando in the _Falcon_ during their assault on the second Death Star, and she had excellent records. Perhaps she would be a good fit for the squadron… Surprisingly he was a bit shocked to find Captain Pash Cracken’s files amongst those that wanted in with the Rogues. He knew Pash’s reputation was with A-wings after he had defected to the Alliance and was puzzled.

There were a couple of other candidates, but somehow, he felt that they weren’t going to be a good fit. It was then that he realized why he was mentally scratching them out of his mind. _I’m comparing them to Tycho and how well they would work with me like Tycho did with me…_

He gritted his teeth in frustration and angrily dumped the files on his desk once more. He knew that his own reasoning of trying to somehow force the Alliance to show that they had Tycho’s body was eating away at him. Though he had not vocalized it to anyone, a part of him desperately wanted to see his former second-in-command’s body just so he could have closure and move on. It was also then that he realized just how much Tycho was like a brother to him, his best friend and counterpart.

When Tycho had initially joined the Alliance right after Yavin, he didn’t trust the Alderaanian, even though he sympathized with his loss of his homeworld. To him, he was just too _Imperial_ , too by the book, and too… _perfect_ was the only word he could think of at the time. There was something about the Alderaanian that made his hackles rise each time he was within his presence. He had seen the rest of his squadmates and Luke included slowly embrace the young man.

It was only until they had barely escaped the ambush of the _Redemption_ to Imperial forces that he had truly began to respect Tycho and become friends with him. Their posting at Hoth with Luke and the other Rogues only help tighten their friendship with each other and made them a tighter group, especially in the wake of the loss of Commander Narra and most of Renegade Flight.

A soft beep from his comlink startled him out of his dark thoughts and he flipped it on. “Antilles here,” he steeled himself to sound cordial, but instead found that his voice was sharp and still full of anger.

“Commander, please meet me in the Medical Bay immediately,” if Admiral Ackbar sounded offended, his gravelly voice did not show it.

“Yes sir,” Wedge replied before shutting the link off. He got up and grabbed his nerf-hide flight jacket before exiting his office, for once, glad that he was interrupted. He really did not want to look for another XO right now.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Torturing the psyche of characters is more fun than torturing them physically in my opinion. But if you can do both, why not go for it! ^_^ Yes, I am a bit warped. No, I do not have a degree in psychology (though almost everyone I’ve talked to says I should). Yes, I am a journalist and therefore have done some research and have a very overactive imagination. And yes, I have finally updated in _Lusankya_.

 

_Chapter 17_

 

Wedge ran into Winter on his way to the medical bay and was a bit puzzled, having heard from Kapp Dendo the other day that she was in the midst of preparing for another mission of sorts. Maybe she was going to liaise with the Rogues once again, but he wasn’t too sure since he was still in the midst of reforming the squadron. They had not once talked about Tycho’s demise since Cracken told them the news, but Wedge could definitely see that Winter was pulling herself together and moving past Tycho. He wondered how could so be so strong and cope with the memories of him since she could never forget.

She smiled slightly at him and he returned the smile, “How are you?”

“Better,” she replied.

“Any idea why-“

He stopped mid-thought, before the puzzling realization of why they were being summoned to the medical bay of all places to meet with Admiral Ackbar, hit him. It was about Tycho! He glanced at her and saw that her thoughts had also raced to the same conclusion before the two of them took off faster than the languid pace they were walking at before.

Technicians and other personnel scrambled out of their way as they headed towards the medical bay of Home One. When they arrived a Two-OneBee directed them to Admiral Ackbar and they found him lingering in one of the halls to the private rooms of the medical bay.

“Admiral?” Wedge asked, stopping in front of him and saluting, Winter also doing the same which surprised him a bit. He had never seen her salute to any high ranking officer before and realized that he had rarely seen her in the presence of high ranking officers, but then again, she was part of the Alliance military, though Intelligence division. “This is about Tycho isn’t it?”

“You’ve found him?” there was just a glimmer of hope in Winter’s voice from her normal stoic personality.

The Admiral didn’t look too surprised by their deductions and instead nodded gravely before pushing a button on the wall, which slowly became transparent revealing a bandaged covered form of a man lying in a bed, medical devices hooked up to almost every part of his skin, monitors pulsating and taking in information, IV liquid bags dripping from stands. A white sheet covered the man’s body, but left his bare arms hanging out. Sharp jagged lines along with angry purple-blue bruises littered the man’s arms. His face was also covered with bruises, some still purple and angry looking, others faded yellow. A few tufts of light brown hair stuck out from corners of the swath of bandages that covered his head and it was only through the bruises on his face that Wedge barely recognized his best friend Tycho Celchu.

“This is a one-way looking transparisteel,” Ackbar rumbled grimly, “he cannot see us nor hear us.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Wedge saw Winter lift up a delicate looking hand and place it by the window, her face calm and serene, but her eyes were serious and drank in almost every detail of the gruesome image Tycho presented, lying there in his bed.

“W-What,” Wedge found that his mouth had gone dry from the shock of finding his best friend and squadmate in such a state. He tried to swallow some moisture back into his throat and tried again, “What happened? How did you find him? Who did this?”

“Why is he being kept in isolation?” Winter’s simple question made Wedge stare at her for a second before he glanced back at the room Tycho was in and realized that it was one of the isolation rooms in the med bay. They were designed for extradited spies or those who had severe cases of post traumatic stress disorder and had broken down. He had also heard they were the rumored rooms used for hidden agents who had committed the acts already and were just string-less puppets.

“General Cracken found Captain Celchu over a week and half ago in a heavily damaged Interceptor that had dropped out of hyperspace from one of the exit vectors we had provided to the Captain when he was supposed to return from Courscant,” Ackbar said before holding up a finned hand to stop him from interrupting him.

“He traced the route all the way back to an Imperial prison facility on Akrit’tar,” the Mon Calamari admiral stared at them with serious eyes.

“That’s near the Core and Courscant,” Wedge mused.

“But that doesn’t explain the injuries,” Winter looked grim, “the political prisoners we have freed from Akrit’tar in the early years of the Rebellion do not come out as…bruised…as him…”

“General Cracken and I believe…” Ackbar paused for a second, making Wedge’s frown grow deeper, “that Captain Celchu may have been tortured and imprisoned in Lusankya before that.”

* * *

Wedge was back in his office, seemingly staring at the files on his desk and on his activated datapad, but he wasn’t looking at them and instead, his gaze was turn inwards, lost in the raging current of his own thoughts. Tycho, a prisoner of Lusankya? That was impossible…he shook his head wordlessly. He could not wrap his head around the concept of his best friend, so brutally tortured, turned even, to serve the Empire in such a fashion. He had heard the rumors of Lusankya agents, seemingly done their dastardly deed and if they had survived the act, whisper the horrid name over and over again, completely and utterly mindless husks afterwards.

Yet, he could not get the image of Tycho, intubated and lying pale in the medical ward out of his mind. The haunting words of Admiral Ackbar that told him that he and Cracken believed Tycho had been a prisoner of Lusankya.

And the thought he knew all too well that Cracken, though he was not there, had implied – that there was a chance Tycho was a spy for the Empire. A secret agent sent back in the guise of escaping from Akrit’tar after so many months of imprisonment. He shook his head again; there was no way Tycho was a spy. He was sure of it… Gritting his teeth, he finally pushed himself up from his desk and headed out of the door, intent on going to the medical wing, to see his best friend, to talk to him. To make sure that the words spoken by him would profess his innocence and validity that he was not a spy.

He had not seen any sort of expression on Winter’s face, true to her name, as she had stared at Tycho’s unmoving form while Ackbar had told them little of the details known. She had just nodded, cool and composed as ever. The only hint of emotion from the strong-willed woman that Wedge got was her request to spend some time alone in the room after the Admiral was done talking.

Wedge had wanted to protest, that he too had a right to watch over his best friend, but somehow he had realized that he could not quite cope with the facts presented before him and had immediately left, heading back to his office, lost in thought. Now, hours later, he wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just a trick played on him, that it wasn’t his own hopes that tricked him into believing that Tycho had been found, alive.

 

~the end of the partially written chapter~

 


	2. FINAL STORY NOTES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Story Notes/Author's Notes

As my writing style slowly evolved and changed in the course of writing in this story, I began to realize how woefully unprepared and inadequate I was to undertake something like this without actually two things: 1. no knowledge of torture methods (i.e. I did not even do the research), and 2. I could so write more psychological torture than I started out thinking I could do.

 

So as I continued to write in the later chapters, I began to get a bit dissatisfied with the first few chapters.  But my stubborn author mentality refused to go back and re-write the first few chapters only because I had long decided if I wanted to re-write any story, I have to first finish the story before committing to a re-write.  I did not want to be one of those authors who decided to re-write in the middle of their story because and end up constantly just re-writing.  Eventually I drifted away from this story partially because of what was happening within the Star Wars fandom as a whole.  Most people were more interested in the post-NJO things and I personally liked the X-Wing series a little more if only because it focused on other characters other than Luke Skywalker (don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore Luke, Mara, and their son Ben), but X-Wing pilots held a special place for me.

 

Essentially the chapter where I ended it, Chapter 16, was actually the end of Act Two.  Act One was Tycho capture and held in Lusankya.  Act Two was his transfer to Akrit'tar and escape back to the Rebel Alliance.  Act Three was to be the scrutiny he went under and coming out with everyone watching him like a hawk.  Wedge was going to end the story by offering him the probationary office of XO for the newly reformed Rogue Squadron and with him getting into the simulator to take a shot at Corran, Bror, and the others that we were treated to in the beginning pages of "Rogue Squadron."

 

Mainly I wrote this story for my beta reader, Legume Shadow.  Tycho was and still is a favorite character of hers (mine's Corran and Wedge, but Tycho has grown on me).  Also I found it very easy to slip into his mind and write him in the story so I liked doing that.  One day I think I will come back and do a full-rewrite of "Lusankya" because it is a story I think deserves the full treatment that we constantly read and hear in the X-Wing novels, but it won't be for a while.  Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope that you guys enjoy my other offerings.


End file.
